by Simeon Strunsky (excerpt) The only place where I am in the mood to walk after the prescribed military fashion is in the open country. Just where by all accounts I ought to be sauntering without heed to time, studying the lovely texts which Nature has set down in the modest type-forms selected from her inexhaustible fonts,—in the minion of ripening berries, in the nonpareil of crawling insect life, the agate of tendril and filament, and the 12-point diamond of the dust,—there I stride along and see little. And in the city, where I should swing along briskly, I lounge.
And in the city, where I should swing along briskly, I lounge. What is there on Broadway to linger over? On Broadway, Nature has used her biggest, fattest type-forms. Tall, flat, building fronts, brazen with many windows and ribbed with commercial gilt lettering six feet high; shrieking proclamations of auction sales written in letters of fire on vast canvasses; railway posters in scarlet and blue and green; rotatory barber-poles striving at the national colors and producing vertigo; banners, escutcheons, crests, in all the primary colors—surely none of these things needs poring over.
Which word best describes the mood of this passage? bored humorous suspenseful sorrowful
@jabez177
@haleyelizabeth2017 @TwiztTiez
I'm not sure. Sorry!
thats ok @haleyelizabeth2017
it is D. Sorrowful
thanks
No probz!
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