![]() He sat up, gazed around the tawdry room, put his hand to his forehead, and sighing deeply, fell back onto the bed. It was purely a reflex action, for when he saw the time he was only confused. Suddenly he opened his eyes again and looked at the watch on his wrist. In utter comfort, utter relaxation he lay absolutely still for a while, and then sank back into one of the light momentary sleeps that occur after a long, profound one. He was somewhere, he had come back through vast regions from nowhere there was the certitude of an infinite sadness at the core of his consciousness, but the sadness was reassuring, because it alone was familiar. If he had not the energy to ascertain his position in time and space, he also lacked the desire. ![]() ![]() The room meant very little to him he was too deeply immersed in the nonbeing from which he had just come. In the process, the veneer of their lives is peeled back under the author’s psychological inquiry.Įach man’s destiny is personal only insofar as it may happen to resemble what is already in his memory ![]() The desert is itself a character in The Sheltering Sky, the most famous of Bowles’ books, which is about three young Americans of the postwar generation who go on a walkabout into Northern Africa’s own arid heart of darkness. American novelist and short-story writer, poet, translator, classical music composer, and filmscorer Paul Bowles has lived as an expatriate for more than 40 years in the North African nation of Morocco, a country that reaches into the vast and inhospitable Sahara Desert. ![]()
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