Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

one of the chinks in the wall and is warmed by a flood of sunshine. Inside it is very still; the sunlight excessively frank, brings out its bare floor & streaked barren walls with startling clearness; which under a winter gloom, might attain a certain romance.; But in this harsh bitter sunlight there is no romance about the yellow-faced druggist or his obsequious apprentice always getting in the road when merely trying to be a “handy man about the place”. They do not know that beyond the white glare in the street outside, and beyond the hill, over which the street disappears, that the same sunlight floods falling some wild valley