I see something written by somebody else, and like it. But I will forget the words, and they will be gone. I shall put them here. When I am old, and remember nothing, I will know that they didn’t get lost.

“I was startled to see a nimble young youth on bicycle come to rest before my gaze, silhouetted by the violent blaze of twilight. Straddling his bike like a desperado, he stood transfixed by the dazzling spectacle of blazing colours. I thought, ‘rather pensive for a toughie; the kid has the soul of a poet.’ So, I approached him and saw that his face had ‘bicycle thief’ written all over it. I asked him if he would acquiesce to having his picture taken – he agreed, this boy who stepped out of Genet’s mythology of the young hoodlum, whose coltish grace and coquetry were his adornment.”

Fred H. Berger/Propaganda Magazine/Winter 1999