Excerpt from Romantic India
For three days we have been going straight toward the South, and, the other morning, just as the faint outline of Sinai was vanishing upon the horizon, we came into the regions of excessive heat. It is a moist, close heat, in which the muscles are relaxed, the whole body seems melting and sinking away - a heat oppressive, prostrating by night as well as day. At times ones clothing seems to burn the skin and to become unendurable. There is no going below for meals: all day long we lie inert in our deck-chairs. A double tent shuts us in, completely hiding both sea and sky; and still the eyes become inflamed with the excess of light.
Coleridge's weird poem of the "Ancient Mariner" comes to my mind. Thus he sailed, oppressed with a strange numbness, a kind of torpor, that cannot be shaken off.
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