...He was in no hurry...
“… He was in no hurry. He wasn’t so much running as drifting, anonymous as the morning. … He left his guitar under one of the big snaking oaks in the front yard,
then strolled back up the road. … He saw the oak tree, the spread and penetrant shade of it, roots like claws, acorns, leaf litter, and beneath it, his guitar propped
casually against the trunk. …”
(from Drop City, TC Boyle)