Okay, so here’s an image that Conrad presents most eloquently:
The sun was low; and leaning forward side by side, they seemed to be tugging painfully uphill their two ridiculous shadows of unequal length, that trailed behind them slowly over the tall grass without bending a single blade. (pg. 41)
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I understand why you were struck by this and desired to share it. It is a very lovely description. Like you mentioned in your previous rant, I process books rather slowly as well — in order to ponder and appreciate exactly this kind of special writ.
What I find surprising is that while I’m geared lately for quick reading, and some of the book does bog me down, It’s really the time factor that limits me to the reading of only a couple pages at a time (not lack of time, but rather staying at one thing for very long). I don’t find myself scanning or hopping past his words.