This story was written by an older, changed Bradbury. He writes of an innocence that now flies along unyielding tracks instead of the wonderful sky, where balances are sought amidst locomotives and belching smokes and terrible noises, instead of the sweet gallantries of summer fun. This Bradbury is found speaking somewhere from between the shock of emotional brutality and the darkness of personal night.
Bradbury's earlier works captured a sense of spirituality and redemption. The moral tone of this story, however, is undeniable: the conduct of the base nature of man is abhorred by even stone and brick, and from that there is no escape.
Leave a comment to the story