Jan
25th
Sun
25th
I was always scribbling on little pads I carried around, jotting down ideas, phrases, images. Half of the young men in the Village were writing such notes. They wrote them down in cafes, in the park, even on the street. You’d see them stop and pull out their pads or notebooks to jot down something that had just struck them — the color of the sky, the bend of a street, an incongruity. These notes were postcards to literature that we never mailed.
— Anatole Broyard, Kafka Was The Rage
