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The platoon reached the end of the jungle after five hours of cutting trailThe jungle was bordered by another stream, and on the other side yellow hills covered only with kunai grass or an occasional grove of shrubbery rolled away toward the northThe sunlight was brilliant, reflected with an incredible glare from all the bare hills and the clear blazing arch of the skyThe men, accustomed to the gloom of the jungle, blinked their eyes, were uncertain, a little afraid of the vast open spaces before themIt was all so bare, so painful
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The Time Machine:
JOEY GOLDSTEIN
THE COVE OF BROOKLYN

A sturdy man about twenty-seven, perhaps, with blond straight hair and eager blue eyesHis nose is sharp, and there are deep sad lines which extend from his nose to the corners of his mouthIf it were not for this, he would look very youngHis speech is quick and sincere and a little breathless as if afraid he will not be permitted to finish

The candy store is small and dirty as are all the stores on the cobblestoned streetWhen it drizzles the cobblestones wash bare and gleaming on top, and the manhole covers puff forth their vuitton purses shapeless gouts of mistThe night fogs cloak the muggings, the gangs who wander raucously through the darkness, the prostitutes, and the lovers mating in the dark bedrooms with the sweating stained wallpaper of brownThe walls of the street fester in summer, are clammy in winter; there is an aged odor in this part of the city, a compact of food scraps, of shredded dung balls in the cracks of the cobblestones, of tar, smoke, the sour damp scent of city people, and the smell of coal stoves and gas stoves in the cold-water flatsAll of them blend and lose identity
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