Voices on the Wind Obscure Voices
In the Field by Susan Stevens The man with the black lunchbox is thinking. He is all geometry as he nears the site where he knows he is on new ground. This man, who eschewed touch-typing, will stop at nothing to use both hands as he lays concrete in shuttering. A laborer now, he imagines writing a book on the esthetics of Quikrete and the satisfaction of arduous toil, when his hands might caress the burl in a railroad tie or a piece of honey onyx he found by happenstance. He is heavy on irony, and so is the prospect of his contemplating aggregate, control joints, braced 2x6 wood forms, concrete floating, then gradually moving into passive solar though he doesn't know it yet. Next will be Xeriscape design, placing gargantuan boulders, creating abstract snakes out of concrete, and designing a water wall. This man will stop at nothing to use the full range of his hands; he has stopped at nothing at every juncture, at every turn of phrase.