“Around the corner from where I live a barrow man has his post.
He cleans the street and picks up papers in the park. He lives a comfortable and successful life. At night he sleeps under his barrow and when it rains he drapes a waterproof cover over the handles to make a shelter. His friends visit him under his barrow and sometimes they play cards. The postman delivers mail to the barrow. He always has a bottle of wine uncorked in his shoulder bag and a piece of bread and cheese for his friends. His eye is merry and his nose is not pale. In the great world he would be considered a failure and something of a rascal, for the world of property considers it a sin to be content without things. But from watching him, and I now have a bowing acquaintance with him, I think he is a more successful organism than those worried men with briefcases and feverish eyes who race to work driven by the pressure of things. My man has apparently given up things he can do without for other things to him more important. I admire him.”
– John Steinbeck,
One American in Paris, written for Le Figaro (1954)