marcando

o início de Rabbit, Run. assim, de repente, parece-me totalmente fotográfico.

devia ter seguido The Lay of the Land, foi o tempo, passou, dois anos.
e devia ter precedido (a juzante, como me confundem com esta direcção) Babbitt de Sinclair Lewis.

"He turns down Kegerise Street, a narrow gravel alley curving past the blank back side of a small box factory where mostly middle-aged women work, the cement-block face of a wholesale beer outlet, and a truly old stone farmhouse, now boarded up, one of the oldest buildings in town, thick crude masonry of Indianskin sandstone. This farmhouse, which once commanded half of the acreage the town is now built on, still retains, behind a shattered and vandalized fence, its yard, a junkheap of brown stalks and eroded timber that will in the summer bloom with an unwanted wealth of weeds, waxy green wands and milky pods of silk seeds and airy yellow heads almost liquid with pollen."

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