"The pedestrians are dragging themselves along with an imperfect slowness and tribulation. A kick on the crank, and they are overtaken, they are already far, already small. It is a poetry in haste. "
"The pedestrians are dragging themselves along with an imperfect slowness and tribulation. A kick on the crank, and they are overtaken, they are already far, already small. It is a poetry in haste. "