The guitar filled with rain, rain softened the paper sacks, the sacks split and perfume spilled on the pavement, pearls rolled in the gutter: while the wind pushed and the cat scratched, the cat screamed -- but worse, I was frightened, a coward to equal Jose: those storming streets seemed aswarm with unseen presences waiting to trap, imprison me for aiding an outlaw.

Autore: Truman Capote