Behind the comfortable shacklike house there is a forest, where, tomorrow, I may go walking. For the time being the forest looks too callow and self-conscious. The greenery is so green. So wooden is the wood. With its glitter-sizzle and the proton play of the waterskaters on its surface, the lake—the lake is like an explosion, in the last split second before it explodes.
Insight at Flame Lake, Martin Amis