David Hayden

I could turn on a lamp, but there is no animal feeling in electricity.

I stand up again and walk over to the phonograph and switch it on without changing the record that I played this morning.

The music strengthens and moves about, catching the pictures, the books and the discoloured white marble mantelpiece as firelight might have done.

Now the place is no longer a cave, but a room with walls that listen in peace.

I hear the music and I watch the voice.

I can see it.

It is a voice to follow with your mind's eye.

La brave, said Earl.

There is no other.

Billie Holiday is singing.

that everybody should just go out and buy it on trust and read it immediately.

It'll be the best thing you do this year.