Meanwhile the shadows lengthened on the beach; the blackness deepened. The iron black boot became a pool of deep blue. The rocks lost their hardness. The water that stood round the old boat was dark as if mussels had been steeped in it. The foam had turned livid and left here and there a white gleam of pearl on the misty sand.
“A psychologist doesn’t understand people: he’s a businessman who sells carnival costumes. There are no costumes, however, for the soul. No, there’s nothing more there than its poor twisted simplicity, turned inside out by a civilization still terrified by tigers — and hiding from them in cities.“
Viscount Emilio Lascano Tegui | On Elegance While Sleeping