Travel. It Was An Intransitive

In The City One Clings To Nostalgic And Unreal Signs Of Community, Takes Forced Refuge In Codes, Badges And Coteries; The City's Life, Of Surfaces And Locomotion, Usually Seems Too Dangerous And Demanding To Live Through With Any Confidence.

One Classic American Landscape Haunts All Of American Literature. It Is A Picture Of Eden, Perceived At The Instant Of History When Corruption Has Just Begun To Set It. The Serpent Has Shown His Scaly Head In The Undergrowth. The Apple Gleams On The Tree. The Old Drama Of The Fall Is Ready To Start All Over Again.

Travel. It Was An Intransitive Verb. It Didn't Involve Any Destinations. It Was Going To The Going's Sake, To Be Anywhere But Where You Were, With Motion Itself As The Only Object.

The City Has Always Been An Embodiment Of Hope And A Source Of Feeling Guilt; A Dream Pursued, And Found Vain, Wanting, And Destructive.

The Trouble With Ghostwriting Is That It Raises The Issue Of Whether The President Is In A State Of Diminished Responsibility For What He Says. Does He Actually Grasp The Implications Of The Words He Speaks?