Читать книгу Bones and Silence - Reginald Hill - Страница 5

We insist, it seems, on living. Then again, indifference descends. The roar of the traffic, the passage of undifferentiated faces, this way and that way, drugs me into dreams: rubs features from faces. People might walk through me … We are only lightly covered with buttoned cloth; and beneath these pavements are shells, bones and silence.

VIRGINIA WOOLF, The Waves