The Literary Hobo
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I was reading Faulkner's great work Light in August yet again. And I thought this passage described some of you fellas decked in workwear sartorial splendor. In truth, it's just a beautiful piece of writing and I thought it might interest a few here–-since we care how hobos look.
"He looked like a tramp, yet not like a tramp either. His shoes were dusty and his trousers were soiled too. But they were of decent serge, sharply creased, and his shirt was soiled but it was a white shirt, and he wore a tie and a stiffbrim straw hat that was quite new, cocked at an angle arrogant and baleful above his still face. He did not look like a professional hobo in his professional rags, but there was something definitely rootless about him, as though no town nor city was his, no street, no walls, no square of earth his home."
Faulkner, William. Light in August (Vintage International) (p. 31). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.