Волны

           Iwilllettheothersgetoutbeforeme.IwillsitstillonemomentbeforeIemergeintothatchaos,thattumult.Iwillnotanticipatewhatistocome.Thehugeuproarisinmyears.Itsoundsandresounds,underthisglassrooflikethesurgeofasea.Wearecastdownontheplatformwithourhandbags.Wearewhirledasunder.Mysenseofselfalmostperishes;mycontempt.Ibecomedrawnin,tosseddown,thrownsky-high.Istepoutontotheplatform,graspingtightlyallthatIpossess--onebag.’

           Thesunrose.Barsofyellowandgreenfellontheshore,gildingtheribsoftheeaten-outboatandmakingthesea-hollyanditsmailedleavesgleamblueassteel.Lightalmostpiercedthethinswiftwavesastheyracedfan-shapedoverthebeach.Thegirlwhohadshakenherheadandmadeallthejewels,thetopaz,theaquamarine,thewater-colouredjewelswithsparksoffireinthem,dance,nowbaredherbrowsandwithwide-openedeyesdroveastraightpathwayoverthewaves.Theirquiveringmackerelsparklingwasdarkened;theymassedthemselves;theirgreenhollowsdeepenedanddarkenedandmightbetraversedbyshoalsofwanderingfish.Astheysplashedanddrewbacktheyleftablackrimoftwigsandcorkontheshoreandstrawsandsticksofwood,asifsomelightshallophadfounderedandburstitssidesandthesailorhadswumtolandandboundedupthecliffandlefthisfrailcargotobewashedashore.