That moment - to this ... may be years in the way they measure, but it's only one sentence back in my mind - there are so many dayswhen living stops and pulls up and sitsand waits like a train on the rails. I pass the hotel at 8and at 5; there are cats in the alleysand bottles and bums, and I look up at the window and think, I no longer know where you are, and I walk on and wonder wherethe living goeswhen it stops.
Charles BukowskiAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer, Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: August 16, 1920
- Died: March 9, 1994