Pete got off from his job as projectionist at the Flesh and Flash around one-thirty, so Eugene was in no hurry. He rode past the Audubon Zoo, which was not one of his favorite places in New Orleans, but where he often went. Across Audubon Park he could see Tulane University and Loyola University where they sat cheek by jowl, darkened silhouettes against the night sky. He liked the universities even less than he liked the zoo because they reminded him of the young men and women who swarmed about them reading strange books, speaking strange languages, and studying about countries with names he couldn’t even say. Since Budd had abandoned him here two years ago he had by necessity changed from a shy, quiet boy to a man who could shuck and jive the paint off the walls if he wanted to. But all the two years had really taught him was how hopelessly ignorant of real learning he was.
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