Friday, July 13, 2012

Footloose …

… Ray Bradbury, the Pedestrian | First Things. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)





“To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight o’clock of a misty evening in November,” the story begins, “to put your feet upon that buckling concrete walk, to step over grassy seams and make your way, hands in pockets, through the silences, that was what Mr. Leonard Mead most dearly loved to do.”
I quite understand.

No comments:

Post a Comment