“In the era of universal graphomania, the writing of books has an opposite meaning: everyone surrounded by his own words as by a wall of mirrors, which allows no voice to filter through from outside.”
The Book of Laughter and Forgetting
published in 1978, long before blogs ever existed
A very average-in-every-way, short, college-age girl carrying a shoulder bag and taking smallish steps as she walks head-up, looking straight ahead.
Very close behind her-VERY close-a much taller white guy, an artist type who I see around town in gesso-smeared jeans, matching her gait step for step while carrying some kind of log or branch or something in both hands behind his back, resting just above his butt.
I watch them for two blocks. They don’t speak or acknowledge one another in any way, but when she makes a quick beeline around a dubious spot on the sidewalk he matches those irregular steps and path, as well.