Status Updates From سرنوشت بشر

J’ai recommencé

‘—September afternoon—solid grey of the sky made a lake’s surface appear milky—meshes of vast fields of waterlilies—Near his idle bell, a Buddhist monk leaned on the balustrade of the pavilion—fragrance of burning aromatic woods—gathering waterlily seeds—the farthest flowers—long waves grew from the rudder—listlessly in the grey water—the wave of serenity that gently covered the depths of death widened to infinity.’