 Hezadeh Dayan was copyrighted on 1930 by William Faulkner. And to set the scene, the story is one of the Bundren family. In the book, Faulkner is attempting to explore the fragility of life and identity and using this family for that purpose. The set to scene with the mother of the family passes away and the Bundren family are transporting her by Neodron wagon across Mississippi in the summertime. She was not along, so the body is in a state of decay. They're traveling at an excruciating slow pace and there are vultures circling above the wagon as they travel. So this is a scene that Faulkner does so well in setting with his language, his ability to create atmosphere. I'm reading from page 107. Tull is in his lot. He looks at us, lifts his hand. We go on the wagon creaking, the mud whispering on the wheels. Vernon still stands there. He watches Jewel as he passes, the horse moving with a light high-need driving gate 300 yards back. We go on with emotion so, so horrific, so dreamlike as to be unaffair to progress as though time and not space were decreasing between us and it. It turns off at right angles. The wheel marks of last Sunday healed away now. A smooth red storiation curving away into the pines. A white signboard with faded lettering. New Hope Church, three miles. It wheels up like emotion on this hand, lifted above a profound desolation of the ocean. Beyond it, the red road lies like a spoke of which Eddie Bunman is the realm. It wheels past, empty, unscarred. The white signboard turns away as fading and tranquil assertion. Cash looks up the road quietly. His head turning as we pass it like an owl's head. His face composed. Tom looks straight ahead, pumped. Dewey Dell looks at the road, too. Then she looks back at me, her eyes watchful and reputing, not like that question which was in those of Cash for a smoldering vial. The signboard passes. The unscarred road wheels on. Dewey Dell turns her head. The wagon creaks on.