Gerard Reve

Frits rolled a cigarette and ran through the luminescent scale of frequencies without finding anything to his liking.

Frits smiled and looked closely at the handsome, bronzed face with its deep-set, dark blue eyes. “Look for the brand when you buy toothpaste,” he thought. “Wandering?” he replied, “I’m not wandering. It’s bound to be a nasty business this evening, don’t you think, Wim?”

felt his eyes grow moist, seized the sheet between his teeth and fell asleep.