Jed Perl

“He is a whirligig of a man - this elegant fellow, alone in a garden, dressed in an absurdly fancy outfit of blue-and-pink striped silk. He is an excitable dreamer, playing on his guitar and singing, his sleekly athletic presence jangled by a great restlessness or anxiety. Surely there is a somebody somewhere he adores, a woman suggested by the shadowy silhouette of a statue glimpsed just beyond his head. So he flings back that head of his and screws up his eyes, until one dark, off-center pupil becomes an addled bull's-eye, a heraldic device suggesting a lover's wild abandon in this nearly abandoned garden. Only the strongest of passions could explain the animation of his limbs, the pinwheel kaleidoscope of his fast-moving arms and legs, which vibrate with the energy of that strangest and finest of inventions, the human machine.”
― Jed Perl