Волны

           Theroarofthetraffic,thepassageofundifferentiatedfaces,thiswayandthatway,drugsmeintodreams;rubsthefeaturesfromfaces.Peoplemightwalkthroughme.And,whatisthismomentoftime,thisparticulardayinwhichIhavefoundmyselfcaught?Thegrowloftrafficmightbeanyuproar--foresttreesortheroarofwildbeasts.Timehaswhizzedbackaninchortwoonitsreel;ourshortprogresshasbeencancelled.Ithinkalsothatourbodiesareintruthnaked.Weareonlylightlycoveredwithbuttonedcloth;andbeneaththesepavementsareshells,bonesandsilence.

           ’Itis,however,truethatmydreaming,mytentativeadvancelikeonecarriedbeneaththesurfaceofastream,isinterrupted,torn,prickedandpluckedatbysensations,spontaneousandirrelevant,ofcuriosity,greed,desire,irresponsibleasinsleep.(Icovetthatbag--etc.)No,butIwishtogounder;tovisittheprofounddepths;onceinawhiletoexercisemyprerogativenotalwaystoact,buttoexplore;tohearvague,ancestralsoundsofboughscreaking,ofmammoths;toindulgeimpossibledesirestoembracethewholeworldwiththearmsofunderstanding--impossibletothosewhoact.AmInot,asIwalk,tremblingwithstrangeoscillationsandvibrationsofsympathy,which,unmooredasIamfromaprivatebeing,bidmeembracetheseengrossedflocks;thesestarersandtrippers;theseerrand-boysandfurtiveandfugitivegirlswho,ignoringtheirdoom,lookinatshop-windows?ButIamawareofourephemeralpassage.

           ’Itis,however,truethatIcannotdenyasensethatlifeformeisnowmysteriouslyprolonged.