They filed out in descending order by altitudes, the father first, out through the sunlit doors in a sextet of calico isotropes and into the street, the elder smiling, along through the crowds and down the road toward the river still single file and with deadpan decorum leaving behind a congregation mute and astounded.
In this passage from Cormac McCarthy's "Suttree," a father and his children exit a building in a calm and orderly manner, descending in height from the eldest to the youngest. They move in a straight line, creating a striking visual of six figures clothed in colorful calico as they step into the sunlight. Their proud demeanor contrasts sharply with the stunned onlookers they leave behind. The scene captures a moment of...
