“The forest breathed, more ample now, awakened, alert, its remotest hiding places suddenly stirred by the enigmatic signs of time’s reversion – an age of great hunts, of proud cavalcades – as if the old Merovingian lair were quickened by a forgotten scent in the air that made it live again”. “[…] the horizon of the woods was darkening with a purple shadow … the very earth turned an evil yellowish complexion, that was that was working on her like a slow fever: you walked on her as on a corpse that beginning to stink. “ Julien Gracq, A balcony in the forest, 1958...
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