all the men in the village worked in the mill or for it. it had been there seven years and in seven years more it would destroy all the timber within its reach. then some of the machinery and most of the men who ran it and existed because of and for it would be loaded onto freight cars and moved away. but some of the machinery would be left, since new pieces could always be bought on the installment plan. gaunt, staring, motionless wheels rising from mounds of brick rubble and gutted boilers lifting their rusting and unsmoking stacks with an air stubborn, baffled and bemused upon a stumppocked scene of profound and peaceful desolation, unplowed, untilled, gutting slowly into red and choked ravines beneath the long quiet rains of autumn and the galloping fury of vernal equinoxes.
faulkner, w. the light in august. (1932; reprint ed., new york, 1950).
stump. new llano, louisiana. february, 2013.