segunda-feira, abril 03, 2006

Paul Strand, Wall Street, 1915

The impalpable sustenance of me from all things, at all hours of the day;
The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme—myself disintegrated, every

one disintegrated, yet part of the scheme:
The similitudes of the past, and those of the future;
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings—on

the walk in the street, and the passage over the river;

Walt Whithman, Leaves of Grass


Sem comentários: