“He rubbed the salt of the crackers against his pajamas and walked through the kitchen to the outside. The sky was not so dark as his room had been, and the moon shone whitely upon his bare feet. The sand bucket lay where he had dropped it that afternoon—by the water spigot at the side of the house—and he picked it up now and righted it, ferocious painted pirate with an earring and sand upon his leggings, and he grasped the shovel, carefully, by its handle, because the edge of the scoop was rough and sharp, a blade of snagged metal. The night was very quiet and there was no wind. The house loomed tall and white and the Porsche rested sleekly in the driveway and the child hesitated between the two. He was beautiful. He was proud. He was Jefferson and in the world alone.”
—Joy Williams, from “Jefferson’s Beauty”
Art Credit Aleksandr Rodchenko, Pine Trees in Pushkin Park, 1927
