Волны

           Ameaty,vapourishsmellofbeefandmutton,sausagesandmash,hangsdownlikeadampnetinthemiddleoftheeating-house.IpropmybookagainstabottleofWorcestersauceandtrytolookliketherest.

           ’YetIcannot.(Theygoonpassing,theygoonpassingindisorderlyprocession.)Icannotreadmybook,orordermybeef,withconviction.Irepeat,"IamanaverageEnglishman;Iamanaverageclerk",yetIlookatthelittlemenatthenexttabletobesurethatIdowhattheydo.Supple-faced,withripplingskins,thatarealwaystwitchingwiththemultiplicityoftheirsensations,prehensilelikemonkeys,greasedtothisparticularmoment,theyarediscussingwithalltherightgesturesthesaleofapiano.Itblocksupthehall;sohewouldtakeaTenner.Peoplegoonpassing;theygoonpassingagainstthespiresofthechurchandtheplatesofhamsandwiches.Thestreamersofmyconsciousnesswaveroutandareperpetuallytornanddistressedbytheirdisorder.Icannotthereforeconcentrateonmydinner."Iwouldtakeatenner.Thecaseishandsome;butitblocksupthehall."Theydiveandplungelikeguillemotswhosefeathersareslipperywithoil.Allexcessesbeyondthatnormarevanity.Thatisthemean;thatistheaverage.Meanwhilethehatsbobupanddown;thedoorperpetuallyshutsandopens.Iamconsciousofflux,ofdisorder;ofannihilationanddespair.Ifthisisall,thisisworthless.YetIfeel,too,therhythmoftheeating-house.Itislikeawaltztune,eddyinginandout,roundandround.