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The Storm


I sat on a rock near the sea. A ship had just put out from shore a fun sail: an imperceptible dot had appeared on the horizon and was gradually approaching, growing rapidly, pushed on by the squall. The storm was going to begin its onslaughts and already the sky was darkening, turning into a blackness almost as hideous as a man's heart.
— Comte de Lautréamont, The Songs of Maldoror [trans. Alexis Lykiard]

3 comments:

  1. That is one spectacular photo, especially at full size; I hadn't noticed the ships near the horizon.

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  2. I now understand with graphic clarity what it means to sail into the teeth of a storm.

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