törless was still gazing out into the garden. he thought he could hear the rustling of the withered leaves being blown into drifts by the wind. then came the moment of utter stillness which always occurs a little before the descent of complete darkness. the shape of things, which had been sinking ever more deeply into the dusk, and the blurring, dissolving colours of things--for an instant it all seemed to pause, to hover, as it were with a holding of the breath....
from the deserted garden a leaf now and then fluttered up against the lit window, tearing a streak of brightness into the darkness behind it. then the darkness seemed to shrink and withdraw, only in the next instant to advance again and stand motionless as a wall outside the window. this darkness was a world apart.
(taking photographic advise from robert musil. and, as always, inspired by woolgathersome)
2 comments:
I wonder why Musil resonates so strongly? Do we identify with his experience of the decadence at the fading of empire?
one author to spend the rest of one's life with - musil.
why? hard to say completely, but he was was quite skillful with a pen. i think he could write about a visit to the dentist and it would be my favourite book.... though hard to choose between him and melville or cervantes, maybe beckett?
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