Very little going on in the action here. A tiny wind creates a bit of motion in a small subsection of the lady's clothing. But poetically — in the sound and look of the words — this is a very happening sentence.
Breeze and haze go together, with their z's. Gray rhymes with the beginning of haze, and haze rhymes with the beginning of Daisy. Gray... hay... day... Gray heyday.
Stir and fur rhyme, and there's a faint echo of that rhyme at the end of collar.
We saw the wind ruffling Daisy's clothes one other time in this "Great Gatsby" project, but we can't talk about that now, because the idea is to restrict ourselves, each day, to one sentence, in isolation.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
"A breeze stirred the gray haze of Daisy’s fur collar."
Labels:
F. Scott Fitzgerald,
fur,
poetry,
the Gatsby project
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