After long years of inner matter coming down out of the mountains of my central tract,

Aside from the downstate confluence of Tri-Borough, George Washington and Throgs Necks Bridges, I have placed a kleenex box at a few of the second-string stress points which parallel the New York State Thruway,—at Syracuse which is on my kitchen table and at Albany which is next to the toaster.

How hard it was to fit the last crayon into the bulging box; like the last person who pushes onto the elevator and is resented by the insiders.