When Tom awoke, he saw that the fire had gone out and, also, that he was now completely alone. The only sound was the susurration of the bamboo, swaying in the breeze.
- Tom uyandığında yangın çıktığını ve ayrıca şimdi tamamen yalnız olduğunu gördü. Tek ses esintiyle sallanan bambunun hışırtısıydı.
Coming in feels almost like going out - an audible breeze threatening to swell into a blizzard, waves breaking and withdrawing, the open air tuned to so many sounds that your own are absorbed in the rise and fall of murmurs, shouts, susurrations, plosives, stutters and echoes - and above them all, like Prospero, the voice of the artist humming to himself as if thinking (or not thinking) aloud.