Волны

           AtnightIsitinthearm-chairandstretchmyarmformysewing;andhearmyhusbandsnore;andlookupwhenthelightfromapassingcardazzlesthewindowsandfeelthewavesofmylifetossed,broken,roundmewhoamrooted;andhearcries,andseeother’sliveseddyinglikestrawsroundthepiersofabridgewhileIpushmyneedleinandoutanddrawmythreadthroughthecalico.

           ’IthinksometimesofPercivalwholovedme.HerodeandfellinIndia.IthinksometimesofRhoda.Uneasycrieswakemeatdeadofnight.ButforthemostpartIwalkcontentwithmysons.Icutthedeadpetalsfromhollyhocks.Rathersquat,greybeforemytime,butwithcleareyes,pear-shapedeyes,Ipacemyfields.’

           ’HereIstand,’saidJinny,’intheTubestationwhereeverythingthatisdesirablemeets--PiccadillySouthSide,PiccadillyNorthSide,RegentStreetandtheHaymarket.IstandforamomentunderthepavementintheheartofLondon.Innumerablewheelsrushandfeetpressjustovermyhead.Thegreatavenuesofcivilizationmeethereandstrikethiswayandthat.Iamintheheartoflife.Butlook--thereismybodyinthatlookingglass.Howsolitary,howshrunk,howaged!Iamnolongeryoung.Iamnolongerpartoftheprocession.Millionsdescendthosestairsinaterribledescent.Greatwheelschurninexorablyurgingthemdownwards.Millionshavedied.Percivaldied.Istillmove.Istilllive.ButwhowillcomeifIsignal?

           ’LittleanimalthatIam,suckingmyflanksinandoutwithfear,Istandhere,palpitating,trembling.ButIwillnotbeafraid.Iwillbringthewhipdownonmyflanks.