“My ears are caked with dust of oatfields at harvest-time. I am a deaf man who strains to hear the calls of other harvesters whose throats are also dry.

It would be good to hear their songs.. reapers of the sweet-stalk’d can, cutters of the corn.. even though their throats cracked and the strangeness of their voices deafened me.”

Toomer, Jean. “Kabnis.” Cane. New York: Liveright, 2011. 69. Print.

Wanting to hear others speak out, but overtaken by the exhaustion of its repetition. The tired voices who won’t be heard.

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