“The Unveiling “
“There is something about poverty that smells like death. Dead dreams dropping off the heart like leaves in a dry season and rotting around the feet; impulses smothered too long in the fetid air of underground caves. The soul lives in a sickly air. people can be slave-ships in shoes.”
Zora Neale Hurston, “Back Stage and the Railroad” from Dust Tracks on a Road