When you're on the road you need the "brains and imagination" they work quickly and accurately because a new day is never guaranteed and it all depends responses to hunger and cold. Find a warm place to sleep or just a decent meal, to escape the thugs and guards, get on and off a moving train, walking in the dust and in the cold, huddled in sleeping sick of moaning and garbage: a life that does not There's nothing to expect is narrated by Tom Kromer so blatant, caustic and direct. The tone of his writing, the voices of his characters are not polished by any necessity literary Wanderers in the night is a long and bitter ballad without mediation, eyes fixed on an open wound in a country overwhelmed by the crisis economy. The look is disenchanted, bruising, tough, always punctuated by a spurt of indignation. Here's the shot waiting for the daily meal, "Appearance and, christ, time never passes. I sit here in this line for the soup. Front and back there is a lot of people, hundreds of people. I curl up in the middle of the row. I've been here two hours. It 's night, and there are still ten minutes to the distribution of the soup. The wind whistles around the corner and cuts me like a knife. I'm only here for two hours. Some of these wanderers have been here for four. Across the street, people stop on the sidewalk. He looks at us. We are on a good show for them. A line two blocks long, the soup is not something to lose. I'm not in a row, those who stop there on the sidewalk. It must be convenient to have nothing to worry about. " The black and white photographs is that of Walker Evans, the accent is the same shrill storm of words of Woody Guthrie, the human subjects (from both sides of the road) are always those of the report by James Agee: The carved faces, torn clothes, shoes, broken open, his eyes asking why and never get an answer. Something fierce, invisible and hidden evil in the economic crisis (then as now, the differences are related) swept their lives, leaving them in misery stunned, desperate, abandoned and most of all, yourself. Unlike other witnesses, valuable, Tom Kromer is one of them, and in so close you can catch the details more cruel: "It 's night, and we are in this jungle. And 'our home for tonight. Our house is a dump of garbage. All around us are piles of tin cans and broken bottles. Among the piles of fires. To our right, a man and a woman are huddled around the fire. A small child gasps in the arms of the woman has diphtheria. He coughs so much that the little face is bruised. The woman is terrified. It gives him patting on the back. For a while, 'one can breathe, then stopped again. You can not cure a sick child to diphtheria in tapping the power back. " It 's the simple truth.
0 comments:
Post a Comment