Волны

           Ithadbeenimpossibleforme,takingsnuffasIdofromanybagmanmetinatrain,tokeepcoherency--thatsenseofthegenerations,ofwomencarryingredpitcherstotheNile,ofthenightingalewhosingsamongconquestsandmigrations.Ithadbeentoovastanundertaking,Isaid,andhowcanIgoonliftingmyfootperpetuallytoclimbthestair?IaddressedmyselfasonewouldspeaktoacompanionwithwhomoneisvoyagingtotheNorthPole.

           ’Ispoketothatselfwhohadbeenwithmeinmanytremendousadventures;thefaithfulmanwhositsoverthefirewheneverybodyhasgonetobed,stirringthecinderswithapoker;themanwhohasbeensomysteriouslyandwithsuddenaccretionsofbeingbuiltup,inabeechwood,sittingbyawillowtreeonabank,leaningoveraparapetatHamptonCourt;themanwhohascollectedhimselfinmomentsofemergencyandbangedhisspoononthetable,saying,"Iwillnotconsent."

           ’ThisselfnowasIleantoverthegatelookingdownoverfieldsrollinginwavesofcolourbeneathmemadenoanswer.Hethrewupnoopposition.Heattemptednophrase.Hisfistdidnotform.Iwaited.Ilistened.Nothingcame,nothing.Icriedthenwithasuddenconvictionofcompletedesertion,Nowthereisnothing.Nofinbreaksthewasteofthisimmeasurablesea.Lifehasdestroyedme.NoechocomeswhenIspeak,novariedwords.Thisismoretrulydeaththanthedeathoffriends,thanthedeathofyouth.Iamtheswathedfigureinthehairdresser’sshoptakinguponlysomuchspace.

           ’Thescenebeneathmewithered.