For half an hour he had been looking out, and through it had come the dull, monotonous roar of distant breakers, it made him think of some kind of animal prowling upon night and air. The darkened room was slowly unburdening itself, the piled up heat of the day rising from corners, out of the cupboard, from underneath the bedclothes, falling away from his own flesh, rising and vanishing through the window. He imagined that if he put out his hand he would be able to feel the darkness itself, like a skin, and to Marius, even this seemed to sweat. But always, over the dull roar, clamant and as remindful as struck blows, the steady tick of the watch by his pillow. "That Lustigne woman's right. The moment we're out we're watched, somebody following you all the time, one's only safe here." He turned over in the heat-clinging bed, then he jumped out, crossed the room and turned the key in the lock. He returned to the bed and stretched out again. "I'll plan. I'll get out of this dump, into the Black Sea, anywhere there, if I could get to Greece, the Islands—Italy perhaps, Leghorn, Genoa— "Ah!
What do You think about The Closed Harbour (2012)?
