"At three-thirty that afternoon Max, Tom, and Sharon placed tabs under their tongues and sat down together in the living room to wait for the flash. Barbara stayed in the bedroom, smoking hash. During the next four hours a window banged once in Barbara’s room, and about five-thirty some children had a fight on the street. A curtain billowed in the afternoon wind. A cat scratched a beagle in Sharon’s lap. Except for the sitar music on the stereo there was no other sound or movement until seven-thirty, when Max said ‘Wow.’"
—
Joan Didion, “Slouching Towards Bethlehem”
I never get over the amazing simplicity of this paragraph or the example it sets for dedicated reporting.
(via amywhipple)
The fact that I’ve never read Slouching… or The White Album is an oversight that CAN NOT STAND.
Luckily, I got this one for my birthday 2 days ago, and I can’t wait to read it.
