Other mourners too had now begun to appear, both personal and professional, so to speak; those who had a personal stake in the funeral of a friend came to spend the night in the colored marquee under the brilliant light. But there were others, the professional mourners of the surrounding villages for whom death was something like a public competition in the poetry of mourning; they came on foot, in carts, on camel-back. And as each entered the gate of the house she set up a long shivering cry, like an orgasm, that stirred the griefs of the other mourners anew, so that they responded from every corner of the house – the low sobbing notes gradually swelling into a blood-curdling and sustained tongue-trill that pierced the nerves.
Lawrence Durrell, The Alexandria Quartet, Mountolive, Faber & Faber, 1962
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário