Волны

           Goonshaving.Thedropfell.Allthroughtheday’swork,atintervals,mymindwenttoanemptyplace,saying,"Whatislost?Whatisover?"And"Overanddonewith,"Imuttered,"overanddonewith,"solacingmyselfwithwords.Peoplenoticedthevacuityofmyfaceandtheaimlessnessofmyconversation.Thelastwordsofmysentencetailedaway.AndasIbuttonedonmycoattogohomeIsaidmoredramatically,"Ihavelostmyyouth."

           ’Itiscurioushow,ateverycrisis,somephrasewhichdoesnotfitinsistsuponcomingtotherescue--thepenaltyoflivinginanoldcivilizationwithanotebook.Thisdropfallinghasnothingtodowithlosingmyyouth.Thisdropfallingistimetaperingtoapoint.Time,whichisasunnypasturecoveredwithadancinglight,time,whichiswidespreadasafieldatmidday,becomespendant.Timetaperstoapoint.Asadropfallsfromaglassheavywithsomesediment,timefalls.Thesearethetruecycles,thesearethetrueevents.ThenasifalltheluminosityoftheatmospherewerewithdrawnIseetothebarebottom.Iseewhathabitcovers.Iliesluggishinbedfordays.Idineoutandgapelikeacodfish.Idonottroubletofinishmysentences,andmyactions,usuallysouncertain,acquireamechanicalprecision.Onthisoccasion,passinganoffice,Iwentinandbought,withallthecomposureofamechanicalfigure,aticketforRome.

           ’NowIsitonastoneseatinthesegardenssurveyingtheeternalcity,andthelittlemanwhowasshavinginLondonfivedaysagolooksalreadylikeaheapofoldclothes.Londonhasalsocrumbled.