I like how our narrative styles defer.

I realize that I don't always talk directly to you.

I am right now though.

We're reading Light in August in American Modernism.

Here's a quotation I read earlier in the day...actually, it seems that it technically I read this yesterday now...but anyway, here you go:
Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders. Knows remembers believes a corridor in a big long garbled cold echoing building of dark red brick sootbleakened by more chimneys than its own, set in a grassless cinderstrewnpacked compound surrounded by smoking factory purlieus and enclosed by a ten foot steel-and-wore fence like a penitentiary or a zoo, wher ein random erratic surges, with sparrowlike childtrebling, orphans in identical uniform blue denim in and out of remember but in knowing constant as the bleak walls, the bleak windows where in rain soot from the yearly adjacenting chimneys streaked liked black tears.