Nighthawks Hopper

Nighthawks Hopper
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
American Day Dream
Biblis painting
Proportionately dwarfed by his uncle's wrestler-like body, Luke strode slump-shouldered in his shadow, his present attitude one of dejection rather than exhaustion.He had a great deal on his mind, and it had very little to do with farming. Mostly itinvolved the rest of his life, and the commitment made by his best friend who hadrecently departed beyond the blue sky above to enter a harsher, yet more rewardingcareer. The bigger man stopped before the assembly and entered into a peculiar squeakydialogue with the jawa in charge. When they wished it, the jawas could beunderstood. Luke stood nearby, listening indifferently. Then he shuffled along behind hisuncle as the latter began inspecting the five machines, pausing only to mutter anoccasional word or two to his nephew. It was hard to pay attention, even though heknew he ought to be learning. "Luke—oh, Luke!" a voice called. Turning away from the conversation, which consisted of the lead jawa extollingthe unmatched virtues of all five machines and his uncle countering with derision,Luke walked over to the near edge of the subterranean courtyard and peered down. A stout woman with the expression of a misplaced sparrow was busy workingamong decorative plants. She looked up at him. "Be sure and tell Owen that if hebuys a translator to make sure it speaks Bocce, Luke."