From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The rhythmic *clack-clack* of the trolley is drowned out by some blockhead humming "Shine On, Harvest Moon" for the tenth time this morning. I’m clutching my nickel for bread, terrified the price will jump again while these wealthy folks like Mrs. Hargis throw thousands at lawyers. Everywhere is the smell of exhaust from those new Ford Model Ts rolling off the assembly lines, a noisy mechanical plague that makes my skin crawl. I saw a fancy box wrapped in that clear, crinkling cellophane in a shop window and wondered if those new-fangled Geiger counters could detect the growing tension in this city.