Jean-Paul Sartre. The age of maturity (№ 436138)

He was in an excellent mood, and he felt quite velvety from the inside. And outside there was the hovering melancholy of the passing day, she settled on him, slightly sour, and gradually penetrated into him with a reddish light and aromas full of regrets. That day, the tropical ocean receding and leaving him alone under a pale sky, was another stage, albeit a very small one, in his life.