« “Mag-gie!” The kids are calling under the railroad bridge where they’ve been swimming. The freight train still rumbles over a hundred cars long, the engine threw the flare on little white bathers, little Picasso horses of the night as dense and tragic in the gloom comes my soul looking for what was there that disappeared and left, lost, down a path – the gloom of love. Maggie, the girl I loved. »
Kerouac, Jack. Maggie Cassidy. Penguin Books, 1959. p. 33
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