This gloom was no doubt accentuated by the blinding brilliance outside, and may even have been a soothing balm to the exhausted eye.  You think air is clear until you see such shafts of mote-whirling light.

‘Our interruption had set the dust moving and a thin golden shaft of light falling aslant the dungeon-like gloom was alive with whirling motes.’

Source: Patrick Leigh Fermor, Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese, introduction by Michael Gorra, New York: New York Review of Books, 2006 (1958), p. 81

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