Clarence Jr. Day / Clarence JrDay
Librería 7artes
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Last Sunday, Potter took me out driving along upper Broadway, where those long rows of tall new apartment houses were built a few years ago. It was a mild afternoon and great crowds of people were out. Sunday afternoon crowds. They were not going anywhere, - they were just strolling up and down, staring at each other, and talking. There were thousands and thousands of them. 'Awful, aren’t they!' said Potter. I didn’t know what he meant. When he added, 'Why, these crowds,' I turned and asked, 'Why, what about them?' I wasn’t sure whether he had an idea or a headache. 'Other creatures don’t do it,' he replied, with a discouraged expression. 'Are any other beings ever found in such masses, but vermin? Aimless, staring, vacant-minded, - look at them! I can get no sense whatever of individual worth, or of value in men as a race, when I see them like this. It makes one almost despair of civilization.'
