![]() Here is his only legacy to the future-that dabbled paw mark whose secret is remembered briefly in the heart of an aging professor. No one knows where Mickey the friendly lies no one knows how many times the dust that clothed that beautiful and loving spirit has moved with the thistledown across the yards where Mickey used to play. Some time ago after the lapse of many decades, I stood and looked at the walk, now crumbling at the edges from the feet of many passers. Many years ago, when the first cement sidewalks were being laid in our neighborhood, we children took the paw of our dog Mickey and impressed it into a kind of immortality even as he modestly floundered and objected. It is there, down those streets past unlit houses that the child runs on alone. It is there that the arc lights lay their shadows. It is in the mind that the flight commences. Few men have such motivations in childhood, few are so constantly seeking for the loophole in the fern where the leaves swing shut behind them. ![]() And out of that intolerable sunlight your one purpose has been given-to escape. ![]() It is the games in which you were pummeled by other children’s big brothers, it is the sharp, demanding voices of adults who snatch your books. ![]() Noise is all the things you did not wish to do. ![]() Noise is the Outside-the bully in the next block by whose house you had to pass in order to go to school. ![]()
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