(no subject)
*sitting in the window, half-frozen and hardly able to feel his fingers enough to smoke his cigarette, he picks up the book his child-self left behind and flips to a random page to read aloud*
Somtimes I aint so sho that ere a man has the right to say what is crazy and what aint. Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It’s like it aint so much what a fellow does, but it’s the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it.
*closing the book, he wants to chuck it out the window but he doesn't, just setting it aside, slipping back into the apartment proper and shoving the glass back down to block out the cold*
Somtimes I aint so sho that ere a man has the right to say what is crazy and what aint. Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It’s like it aint so much what a fellow does, but it’s the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it.
*closing the book, he wants to chuck it out the window but he doesn't, just setting it aside, slipping back into the apartment proper and shoving the glass back down to block out the cold*