"From her hand, ice cold, held deep in the sea, there spurted up a fountain of joy at the change, at the escape, at the adventure (that she should be alive, that she should be there). And the drops falling from this sudden and unthinking fountain of joy fell here and there on the dark, the slumberous shapes in her mind; shapes of a world not yet realized but turning in their darkness, catching here and there a spark of light.”
Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
My book of sketches, Imagining Morocco, begins with the above quotation. You can now download the book for your ipad/iphone or purchase a hard copy here.