among the rooms

 “Among the rooms which used most commonly to take shape in my mind during my long nights of sleeplessness, there was none that differed more utterly from the rooms at Combray, thickly powdered with the motes of an atmosphere granular, pollenous, edible and instinct with piety, than my room in the Grand Hotel de la Plage, at Balbec, the walls of which, washed with rippling, contained, like the polished sides of a basin in which the water glows with a blue, lurking fire, a finer air, pure, azure tinted, saline.”  Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way