Push Him Around

           He was a windblown blossom of some two hundred pounds with freckled teeth and the mellow voice of a circus barker. He was tough, fast and he ate red meat. Nobody could push him around. He was the kind of cop who spits on his blackjack every night instead of saying his prayers. But he had humorous eyes.

• Farewell My Lovely
• Raymond Chandler
• 1940
• 
  

 https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/spinning-wheels-thought-motion-raymond-chandlers-fiction/

Even Bad Luck is Some Kind of Luck #66

Manhunt

Union City

Strangers on a Train

Two Jakes

Knife in the Water

The Grifters

Touch of Evil

Public Eye

Le Doulos

Bound

A Ship Bound for India

Get Carter

You Get On

Well i suppose nothing is meant to last forever. We  have to make room for other people. It's a wheel. You get on, you have to go to the end.

Vivian Maier

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Ben Aronson

Jules Dassin

• Jules Dassin Tribute

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