Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, November 9, 1917

I was painting down by the railroad, on the hill above were the foreigner’s shacks; a locomotive, the kind that shifts back & forth like animals, shrieked; the reechoing over the town was startling; the engine began a deep vibrating boom that shook the earth & then stopped. It was very quiet, from the chimney’s smoke went straight up into the hazy air –

This is the powerful freakish poetry of the town.

Up Newgarden street a band started to play.  They were having sport, each one played as queer as he could; yet withal it was a strange combination of sounds that aptly expressed the freakish characters of the dwellings, the shops etc.

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, November 9, 1917