Herb

Herb Feith has died: he who no longer drove a car, whose thin, haggard body had long given up all kinds of material comfort; yes, he who would never disturb those around him with ambition or coercion, nor quarrel with anything or anyone, died that evening, near his bicycle, in a crash with a passing train. Something uncommon in Melbourne, where machines and systems are everyday life. What can one take from these snippets of story, other tha

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