Хвилі

           Ishallpassanoldwomanwheelingaperambulatorfullofsticks;andtheshepherd.Butweshallnotspeak.Ishallcomebackthroughthekitchengarden,andseethecurvedleavesofthecabbagespebbledwithdew,andthehouseinthegarden,blindwithcurtainedwindows.Ishallgoupstairstomyroom,andturnovermyownthings,lockedcarefullyinthewardrobe:myshells;myeggs;mycuriousgrasses.Ishallfeedmydovesandmysquirrel.Ishallgotothekennelandcombmyspaniel.SograduallyIshallturnoverthehardthingthathasgrownhereinmyside.Butherebellsring;feetshuffleperpetually.’

           ’Ihatedarknessandsleepandnight,’saidJinny,’andlielongingforthedaytocome.Ilongthattheweekshouldbeallonedaywithoutdivisions.WhenIwakeearly--andthebirdswakeme--Ilieandwatchthebrasshandlesonthecupboardgrowclear;thenthebasin;thenthetowel-horse.Aseachthinginthebedroomgrowsclear,myheartbeatsquicker.Ifeelmybodyharden,andbecomepink,yellow,brown.Myhandspassovermylegsandbody.Ifeelitsslopes,itsthinness.Ilovetohearthegongroarthroughthehouseandthestirbegin--hereathud,thereapatter.Doorsslam;waterrushes.Hereisanotherday,hereisanotherday,Icry,asmyfeettouchthefloor.Itmaybeabruisedday,animperfectday.Iamoftenscolded.