Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

But still greater was his need to talk about his lust. And I suspected it was not so much that he was overcome with desire, that as that he was trying to awaken his jaded passion by calling to his mind the fantastic pictures he had been relating to me. And now he said “Did you ever draw any onery(sic) pictures”,(giving pronouncing the word as spelled, not the common “ornery”). But he did not seem disappointed when I said “No!”; he merely wanted to bring the subject up. “I’d like to get some” he added, ”I’ve seen some of the “onerariest”(sic) pictures yuh ever heard tell of” and so he launched forth again into a series of weird descriptions. At this point he said he must go; a negro came along. He stopped. Here was an opportunity for a companion back to town. He shook hands with me, calling me “Pard.” “I feel better now” he said. In a few moments they were lost in the gloom. I had performed a service for him no doubt, but whether it was that I had helped relieve him of his nervousness, or had been the means of helping him whet his desires, I do not know.