I can remember wind-swept streets of cities on cold and blustery nights, on rainy days; heads under shabby felts and parasols and Shoulders hunched against a sharp concern; seeing hurt bewilderment on poor faces, smelling a deep and sinister unrest these brooding people cautiously caress; hearing ghostly marching on pavement stones and closing fast around their squares of hate. I can remember seeing them all alone, at work, and in their tenements at home. I can remember hearing all they said: their muttering protests their whispered oaths, and all that spells their living in distress.
