
|
The variety of shapes, colours and textures under her feet
was, she believed, literally infinite. It must be. Each shell,
each pebble, each stone had been made what it was by aeons of
submarine or subglacial massage. The indiscriminate, eternal
devotion of nature to its numberless particles had an emotional
importance for Isserley; it put the unfairness of human life
into perspective. |