Waddlin'

So, I drew these pigeons in class today during our close reading discussion. Something I quite enjoy about the passage on page 393 is its first sentence: “Today on the pavement a fat domestic London pigeon waddling among the boots and shoes of people hurrying for a bus.” The structure of this sentence mimics - or displays in another way - the image the sentence describes. This opening line is not a complete thought, but a series of thoughts strung together to reveal the feeling of chaotic streets, the motions of both men and birds. How do their (human footsteps & bird feet) rhythms match or interrupt each other? The language replicates the waddling movements of the birds; it is a chunky and clumsily organized sentence that is still read as an eloquent description of one London moment. I believe it is a great example of form as it mimics image, and one of my favorite images/ language bits of The Golden Notebook so far.

Also, an unrelated question/ thought that will backtrack some -- I have been into the idea of boulders // mountains for a while (from page 199). "The boulder is the truth that the great men know by instinct, and the mountain is the stupidity of mankind." Does this mean that truth is relative but stupidity/ ignorance is more solid/ lasting? That people are able to believe different truths at different times (because "we push the boulder") but we can not change who or what is "stupid"? I am curious to hear any thoughts about this boulder/ mountain issue...if it is even a relevant passage to bring up.