I hate darkness and sleep and night and lie longing for the day to come. I long that the week should be all one, without divisions. As each thing in the bedroom grows clear, my heart beats quicker. I feel my body harden, and become pink, yellow, brown. My hands pass over my legs and body. I feel its slopes, its thinness.
Things seem paler.
I shall wander and pick flowers, green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured May, wild roses and ivy serpentine. I will clasp them in my hands and lay them down, sun drenched. I faint, I fail. My body thaws; I am unsealed. I am incandescent.
Adapted from Virginia Wolf’s extraordinarily poetic vision, The Waves (1931).