Aaron

Aaron had a passion for the lost chord. He looked for it under the
newspapers at the Battery, saying to himself, "So many things have
been lost." He was very logical and preterred to look when nobody
was watching, as anyone would have, let us add. He was no crank,
though he was tunny somehow in his bedroom. He was so tunny that
everybody liked him, and hearing this those who had been revolted by
him changed their minds. They were right to be pleasant, and if it
hadn't been for something making them that way, they wouldn't
have been involved in the first place. Being involved of course was
what hurt. "Its a tight squeeze," Aaron was saying in his bedroom,
and let us suppose he was quite right. He closed his eyes and shivered,
enjoying what he did. And he went on doing it, until it was time for
something else, saying, "I like it." And he did. He liked a good tune
too, if it lasted. He once remarked to somebody, "Tunes are like
birds." He wanted to say it again, but he couldn't remember, so the
conversation became general, and he didn't mind. What was Aaron's
relationship to actuality? I think it was a very good relationship.

(1948)