Æstival Tide

FOR RICHARD GRANT:

Parcus deorum cultor et infrequens

Some minutes later a murmur ran through the crowd. Through my heavy eyelids which had almost closed at the horror of her tale, I saw gown after gown passing, and parasols, and fans, and happy faces, and accursed faces, dancing, whirling, rushing. It was like a burst of immense flowers, like a whirl of fantastic birds.

“The doors, darling!” cried Clara, “the doors are opening! Come, come quickly! And don’t be sad anymore… Think of all the beautiful things you’re gong to see!”

Octave Mirbeau, The Torture Garden