Хвилі

           Butthereisarock;theysever.

           Thesunfellinsharpwedgesinsidetheroom.Whateverthelighttouchedbecamedoweredwithafanaticalexistence.Aplatewaslikeawhitelake.Aknifelookedlikeadaggerofice.Suddenlytumblersrevealedthemselvesupheldbystreaksoflight.Tablesandchairsrosetothesurfaceasiftheyhadbeensunkunderwaterandrose,filmedwithred,orange,purplelikethebloomontheskinofripefruit.Theveinsontheglazeofthechina,thegrainofthewood,thefibresofthemattingbecamemoreandmorefinelyengraved.Everythingwaswithoutshadow.Ajarwassogreenthattheeyeseemedsuckedupthroughafunnelbyitsintensityandstucktoitlikealimpet.Thenshapestookonmassandedge.Herewasthebossofachair;herethebulkofacupboard.Andasthelightincreased,flocksofshadowweredrivenbeforeitandconglomeratedandhunginmany-pleatedfoldsinthebackground.

           ’Howfair,howstrange,’saidBernard,’glittering,many-pointedandmany-domedLondonliesbeforemeundermist.Guardedbygasometers,byfactorychimneys,sheliessleepingasweapproach.Shefoldstheant-heaptoherbreast.Allcries,allclamour,aresoftlyenvelopedinsilence.NotRomeherselflooksmoremajestic.Butweareaimedather.Alreadyhermaternalsomnolenceisuneasy.Ridges,fledgedwithhousesrisefromthemist.Factories,cathedrals,glassdomes,institutionsandtheatreserectthemselves.Theearlytrainfromthenorthishurledatherlikeamissile.Wedrawacurtainaswepass.Blankexpectantfacesstareatusaswerattleandflashthroughstations.