I can tell from the sound that she uses soap
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Evening. The moon, Jupiter. Moving mists. A troop of trees fording a river. A dog out hunting. Invisible oxen.
The chateau is dark; but a light in the dining-room shows that people are dining there in accordance with the rules of etiquette.
Slender poplars, heavy elms. As the mist moves, some are drowned while others raise their heads.
You hear the stream running in the very depth of the earth.
Now and then everything is drowned. It is a deluge.
Your mouth filled with dampness, you go home. You are a little scared.