Волны

           Iwokeinagarden,withablowonthenapeofmyneck,ahotkiss,Jinny’s;rememberingallthisasoneremembersconfusedcriesandtopplingpillarsandshaftsofredandblackinsomenocturnalconflagration.Iamforeversleepingandwaking.NowIsleep;nowIwake.Iseethegleamingtea-urn;theglasscasesfullofpale-yellowsandwiches;themeninroundcoatsperchedonstoolsatthecounter;andalsobehindthem,eternity.Itisastigmaburntonmyquiveringfleshbyacowledmanwithared-hotiron.Iseethiseating-shopagainstthepackedandflutteringbirds’wings,manyfeathered,folded,ofthepast.Hencemypursedlips,mysicklypallor;mydistastefulanduninvitingaspectasIturnmyfacewithhatredandbitternessuponBernardandNeville,whosaunterunderyewtrees;whoinheritarmchairs;anddrawtheircurtainsclose,sothatlamplightfallsontheirbooks.

           ’Susan,Irespect;becauseshesitsstitching.Shesewsunderaquietlampinahousewherethecornsighsclosetothewindowandgivesmesafety.ForIamtheweakest,theyoungestofthemall.Iamachildlookingathisfeetandthelittlerunnelsthatthestreamhasmadeinthegravel.Thatisasnail,Isay;thatisaleaf.Idelightinthesnails;Idelightintheleaf,Iamalwaystheyoungest,themostinnocent,themosttrustful.Youareallprotected.Iamnaked.Whenthewaitresswiththeplaitedwreathsofhairswingspast,shedealsyouyourapricotsandcustardunhesitatingly,likeasister.Youareherbrothers.