Fragments of Noir

Wednesday, 14 October 2015

Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance.

Carl Sandburg

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Sadao Watanabe

fragments of noir: 'It was one of those hot dry Santa Annas that come down thru the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge. ............ Red Wind- Raymond Chandler

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