Word: vagabondism
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...Vumeri Hospital the cockroaches chirped, the patients rang bells, and the staff patiently waited in the sumptuous laboratory. Why the nurses and docses and doctors were peering through glass covered interstices into an immense box in the middle of the room the Vagabond furtively inquired. A mass of almond hair whispered that they were waiting for the reaction. Within the cubic cell were two poles placed upright and a sobbing boy sitting on the floor. The muscles of his cheeks contracted and relaxed spasmodically; his legs twitched. Dequuro, the god who warned the people of Ponguelano, on more serious occasions...
...either hand, the red bulk of the buildings seem to forbid his premeditations; still the Vagabond envisions beyond them his day of country pleasures, sure of fruition, his sunlit dalliance, and his final quart of ale, dish for a Ring...
...dusty blue twilight, Mass. Avenue has shed its whirling purposiveness, its absorption in business duties, classes, shopping; and the Vagabond is thankful. Now he notices the slim young girl in the rear of the store, dressed in poor dishevelled black, and it does not matter what she is buying, what grey routine she is coming from; she is there, bright flesh, smiling, unworried, absolute in the moment, against a gaudy background of boxes and labels, like some person in a novel. The streetcars pass, carrying people to no destination; they sit in the brightly lit rows of seats, staring...
...early morning; the Vagabond donned his opera cloak sweeping it majestically over his shoulders. Enveloped in a phlegmatic cloud of imagination, he slowly glided out of Cambridge to a region replete with little green gnomes rollicking gaily. Before him and toward the horizon there loomed a macabre but wavering to the left and then to the right. A low wailing emitted from the narrow brick chimney. The Vagabond rushed thither to peer sureptitiously into a sordid room. A child, not much older than three, indifferently sucked its index finger; a woman, with delicate almost mask-like features brushed her hair...
Dust had grimed the dregs at the foot of the bottle, the fire was embers, Dawn reached rosy fingers to snatch back reality. The Vagabond shook himself, gazed at his empty lair, stretched in preparation for a new day. At nine o'clock he will saunter spryly into Sever 22 to hear Mr. Curtiss discourse on "Motion in Polar Coordinates," for Roger Bacon, first of the moderns, said "Mathematics prepares the mind and elevates it to a sure knowledge of all things," for in numbers lies the only Truth...