The crowd rejects both these ideas of course - locking of doors, and weapons. The writer is not a flower. There are no indications anywhere that the writer considers himself to be one of these people, as his sense of truth is that which the crowd rejects, and he never goes out to them, he shoots, he yells, then returns to his kitchen. He is not one of their innocents, not one of their undefended types. He is not them. He is not a flower. This is again evidenced when he uses both bullets and then, I sit and listen to them singing I sit and listen to them. Because they, the flowers, are a “them”. He is not a part.The last thing to feel is relevant to say at the moment is that at the beginning, he hears the crowd. He first acknowledges them, then joins a part of them in brief , then confronts them with the gun but at the end, he is doing more than that - he is listening. Really
The crowd rejects both these ideas of course - locking of doors, and weapons. The writer is not a flower. There are no indications anywhere that the writer considers himself to be one of these people, as his sense of truth is that which the crowd rejects, and he never goes out to them, he shoots, he yells, then returns to his kitchen. He is not one of their innocents, not one of their undefended types. He is not them. He is not a flower. This is again evidenced when he uses both bullets and then, I sit and listen to them singing I sit and listen to them. Because they, the flowers, are a “them”. He is not a part.The last thing to feel is relevant to say at the moment is that at the beginning, he hears the crowd. He first acknowledges them, then joins a part of them in brief , then confronts them with the gun but at the end, he is doing more than that - he is listening. Really