Sylvanshine had found himself locking eyes with thirty-year-old men who had
infants in high-tech papooselike packs on their backs, their wives with
quilted infant-supply bags at their sides, the wives in charge, the men
appearing essentially soft or softened in some way, desperate in a resigned
way, their stride not quite a trudge, their eyes empty and overmild with the
weary stoicisim of young fathers. Reynolds would call it not stoicism but
acquiescence to some large and terrible truth.
- David Foster Wallace, The Pale King
I should have included a disclaimer: I don’t think this describes any of you all, friends and family! It’s just very vivid and resonated with me. I’m sure you’ll see me strapped into one of those papooses too, eventually!
+1ed this.
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