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On 11:59 AM by Rachel Preston Prinz in
At the edge of the little circle of light; the darkness seemed to fall from the ceiling, lofty, intense, monolithic, the fragile light of the candle unable to pierce its thickness, turned back as from a black wall... It was a repletion, a pregnancy of tiny particles like fine ashes, each particle luminous as a rainbow... The elegant aristocrat of old was immersed in his suspension of ashen particles. soaked in it, but the man of today, long used to electric light, has forgotten such a darkness existed.

- Junichiro Tanizaki