Elgin Smith, tired of studying, was standing on the steps of Widener Library—those wide, Roman, inconvenient steps—blinking his eyes and staring into the distance, because that was supposed to refresh the corneas and the retina. He was thinking, but not of his schoolwork. He was thinking of what ...
I use a-sense-of-things. In a kind of clouded gray space inside my head, I guess at him. I probably can’t do this, guess at him and be right. We are silent, one day, Jass and I, after doing dares—daring each other to shinny up the pipe-frame of the row of swings in Jackson Park, riding the swing ...