3/24/2021 0 Comments The Pedestrian By Bradbury Pdf
He couldnt see the men in it for the bright light in his eyes.In the introduction to the graphic novel adaptation of Fahrenheit 451, Mr.Read More Release Date August 7, 1951 View All Credits 1 54K 18 8 To enter out into that silence that was the city at eight oclock of a misty evening in November, to put your feet upon that buckling concrete walk, to step over grassy seams and make your way, hands in pockets, through the silences, that was what Mr Leonard Mead most dearly loved to do.
He would stand upon the corner of an intersection and peer down long moonlit avenues of pavement in four directions, deciding which way to go, but it really made no difference; he was alone in this world of A.D., 2053 or as good as alone, and with a final decision made, a path selected, he would stride off, sending patterns of frosty air before him like the smoke of a cigar. Sometimes he would walk for hours and miles and return only at midnight to his house. And on his way he would see the cottages and homes with their dark windows, and it was not unequal to walking through a graveyard where only the faintest glimmers of firefly light appeared in flickers behind the windows. Sudden grey phantoms seemed to manifest upon inner room walls where a curtain was still undrawn against the night, or there were whisperings and murmurs where a window in a tomb-like building was still open. Mr Leonard Mead would pause, cock his head, listen, look, and march on, his feet making no noise on the lumpy walk. For long ago he had wisely changed to sneakers when strolling at night, because the dogs in intermittent squads would parallel his journey with barkings if he wore hard heels, and lights might click on and faces appear and an entire street be startled by the passing of a lone figure, himself, in the early November evening. On this particular evening he began his journey in a westerly direction, towards the hidden sea. He listened to the faint push of his soft shoes through autumn leaves with satis-faction, and whistled a cold quiet whistle between his teeth, occasionally picking up a leaf as he passed, examining its skeletal pattern in the infrequent lamplights as he went on, smelling its rusty smell. Hello, in there, he whispered to every house on every side as he moved. Whats up tonight on Channel 4, Channel 7, Channel 9 Where are the cowboys rushing, and do I see the United States Cavalry over the next hill to the rescue The street was silent and long and empty, with only his shadow moving like the shadow of a hawk in mid-country. If he closed his eyes and stood very still, frozen, he could imagine himself upon the centre of a plain, a wintry, windless Arizona desert with no house in a thousand miles, and only dry river beds, the streets, for company. What is it now he asked the houses, noticing his wrist watch. Eight-thirty p.m. Time for a dozen assorted murders A quiz A revue A comedian falling off the stage Was that a murmur of laughter from within a moon-white house He hesitated, but went on when nothing more happened. In ten years of walking by night or day, for thousands of miles, he had never met another person walking, not one in all that time. He came to a clover-leaf intersection which stood silent where two main highways crossed the town. During the day it was a thunderous surge of cars, the petrol stations open, a great insect rustling and a ceaseless jockeying for position as the scarab-beetles, a faint incense puttering from their exhausts, skimmed homeward to the far directions. He turned back on a side street, circling around towards his home. He was within a block of his destination when the lone car turned a corner quite suddenly and flashed a fierce white cone of light upon him. He stood entranced, not unlike a night moth, stunned by the illumination, and then drawn towards it. Your hands up Or well shoot The police, of course, but what a rare, incredible thing; in a city of three million, there was only one police car left, wasnt that correct Ever since a year ago, 2052, the election year, the force had been cut down from three cars to one. Crime was ebbing; there was no need now for the police, save for this one lone car wandering and wandering the empty streets.
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