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“I thought, “This is going to be one of my greatest days.” For
not only was the high feeling of the night still with me, which set a
kind of record, but I became convinced (and still am convinced) that
things, the object-world itself, gave me a kind of go-ahead sign.
…
No, what happened was like nothing previously conceived; it took the form merely
of the light at daybreak against the white clay of the wall beside me and had
an extraordinary effect, for right away I began to feel the sensation in my
gums warning of something lovely, and with it a close or painful feeling in
the chest. People allergic to feathers will know what I am talking about; they
become aware of their presence with the most gradual subtlety. In my case the
cause that morning was the color of the wall with the sunrise on it, and when
it became deeper I had to put down the baked yam I was chewing and support
myself with my hands on the ground, for I felt the world sway under me and
I would have reached, if I were on a horse, for the horn of the saddle. Some
powerful magnificence, not human, in other words, seemed under me. And it was
this same mild pink color, like the water of watermelon, that did it. At once
I recognized the importance of this, as throughout my life I had known these
moments when the dumb begins to speak, when I hear the voices of objects and
colors; then the physical universe starts to wrinkle and change and heave and
rise and smooth, so it seems that even the dogs have to lean against a tree,
shivering.”
~Saul Bellow. Henderson the Rain King
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