Footprint Baby Feet Quotes

They couldn’t be that dumb, could they?   Eamon had stopped moving and was giving the burrows an assessing glance. He looked over his shoulder and tilted his head at the dark hole.   Yep, they could be that dumb. Shea mouthed a curse.   That’s why Buck was so all fired curious about the damn things. He thought their people might be in them.   He backed out of the latest one and shook his head at Eamon.   To those unfamiliar with the shadow beetle, it would have made sense to seek shelter in one of the smaller tunnels. The shadow beetle was too big to follow. It would seem like the safest place if you didn’t know about the hundreds, possibly thousands, of eggs filled with ravenous baby shadow beetles, just waiting to hatch.   Buck straightened and pointed at the tunnel he just checked, making the sign for tracks. It was no bigger than waist high and only about two feet across. He’d found several footprints in the dirt in front of it.   They shared looks of equal distaste.   None of them wanted to head down into the dark. Eamon rolled his eyes up to the sky as if to say ‘why me?’ while Buck rested one arm against the stone and covered his eyes.   Eamon crouched to the side and cupped his hands around his mouth whispering as loud as he could into the dark, “Vale? Anyone? Are you alive down there?

Cleanliness (hygiene), the most important of American values (at least mythically), is counteracted in spectacular fashion: dirt on the body, in the hair, on the clothes; clothes dragging along the street, dusty feet, fair-haired babies playing in the gutter (but somehow it is still different from real dirtiness, different from a long-engrained poverty, from a dirtiness which deforms the body, the hand; hippy dirt is different, it has been borrowed for the holidays, sprinkled over like dust, and, like a footprint, not permanent).