451 по фаренгейту
Burning Bright
Montagwatchedthegreatdustsettleandthegreatsilencemovedownupontheirworld. Andlyingthereitseemedthathesaweverysinglegrainofdustandeverybladeofgrassandthatheheardeverycryandshoutandwhispergoingupintheworldnow. Silencefelldowninthesiftingdust,andalltheleisuretheymightneedtolookaround, togathertherealityofthisdayintotheirsenses.
Montaglookedattheriver. We’llgoontheriver. Helookedattheoldrailroadtracks. Orwe’llgothatway. Orwe’llwalkonthehighwaysnow,andwe’llhavetimetoputthingsintoourselves. Andsomeday,afteritsetsinusalongtime,it’llcomeoutofourhandsandourmouths. Andalotofitwillbewrong,butjustenoughofitwillberight. We’lljuststartwalkingtodayandseetheworldandthewaytheworldwalksaroundandtalks,thewayitreallylooks. Iwanttoseeeverythingnow. Andwhilenoneofitwillbemewhenitgoesin,afterawhileit’llallgathertogetherinsideandit’llbeme. Lookattheworldoutthere, myGod,myGod,lookatitoutthere,outsideme,outtherebeyondmyfaceandtheonlywaytoreallytouchitistoputitwhereit’sfinallyme,whereit’sintheblood, whereitpumpsaroundathousandtimestenthousandaday. Igetholdofitsoit’llneverrunoff. I’llholdontotheworldtightsomeday.I’vegotonefingeronitnow; that’sabeginning.
Thewinddied.
Theothermenlayawhile,onthedawnedgeofsleep,notyetreadytoriseupandbegintheday’sobligations, itsfiresandfoods,itsthousanddetailsofputtingfootafterfootandhandafterhand. Theylayblinkingtheirdustyeyelids. Youcouldhearthembreathingfast,thenslower,thenslow...
