The Grey Notebook. Manuscript, page 1

            8th March 1918 -
 [...] Halfway through the afternoon it starts to rain - a fine, dense, slight, steady drizzle. There's not a breath of air. The sky is low and leaden. I hear the rain falling on the ground and the trees in the garden. It makes a distant, muted sound, like the sound of the sea in winter. March rain, cold, chilling. As the evening sets in, the grey sky becomes a gauzy white - livid, unreal. In the village, weighing on the rooftops, there is a dense, a palpable, silence. The sound of the falling water lengthens it out in a vague music.

The Grey Notebook
(translated by David Warwick Orr)

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