whole width of the house was a dirty-white
expanse of wall across which crawled in
unutterably disgusting, wormsmooth,
bowel-like form the open rust-flecked
groove for the toilet pipe. There were
grey dusty marks at the edge of the
ceiling where the gas pipe had been,
and they went this way and that before
they suddenly turned right round, ran
to the painted wall and into a dark hole
that had been ruthlessly torn open there.
Rainer Maria Rilke:
The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge.
