Word: vagabonde
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...seriously and solely engaged in making the camera tell what concentrated truth they can find for it. One. the oldest, is Alfred Stieglitz. Another is a Hungarian war photographer, Robert Capa (TIME, Feb. 24), now in China. A third, one of the most adventurous, is a 29-year-old vagabond Frenchman named Cartier-Bresson, whose abilities sober critics have called "magical." Apparently carefree but quick on the trigger, Cartier-Bresson has snapped unforgettable, revelatory pictures of commonplace and sub-commonplace scenes, from bare French cafe tables to Mexicans with their pants down. Closest to him among U. S. photographers...
Last night the Vagabond sat in his New room and reminisced. As idle driblets of thought and kaleidoscopic memories wafted their feather-like way through his brain, his gaze drifted around the many walls which encircle his new penthouse cubicle. Before him the desk, the calendar, the typewriter. Well enough; they had been so in the past. And there was the Falstaffian old leather Morris chair with its spinster companion, the ever slightly drunken bridge lamp, leaning confidentially over its shoulder--looking the same as ever. But will the old combination still breed the same pleasant spawn of thoughts...
Pensively the Vagabond flicked a key of his Old Underwood. Would it still be able to unravel those neat, printed letters which somehow lessen the chaos of thought? Could it still supply the right word, the proper touch to sentences in this foreign atmosphere? Then suddenly, in the vast loneliness of unfamiliar surroundings, he remembered again how Freshmen feel. How awful and unhuman and unknowable college seems. How important and lightning and complicated a History 1 lecture can sound. How vast and impersonal and uninterested the Union can feel. How suave and learned and acquainted everyone else can seem when...
...animal heads and the menu at the Union. They acquire shoes and hats and slacks and friends like the rest. They find their places and the atmosphere gradually, unnoticeably, has meanwhile through some magic grown normal and livable. They get used to Harvard--their New room. And the Vagabond guesses that pretty soon he will get used to his New room, too. Till then he, too, will just grope hopefully for the light...
There are probably a lot of good lectures going on here and there in this vast university, and the Vagabond probably ought to do something about it. You see, the only real official reason for and business of the Vagabond is to spy out the several academic gems which sparkle through the dull lode of thousands of ordinary lectures each year and pass the good word along to the student public--generally enhancing the picture with a few precious baubles of his own opinion on the subject. Yes, the Vag knows he ought to get down to business...