I am trying to imagine, visually and aurally, a far-tinkling haze.  As a way to distance yourself from any kind of barking and jeering, this is unbeatable. The next time someone crowds my quiet, I will visualise them vanishing not in a puff of smoke, but swaddled instead in a far-tinkling haze, their loudness muffled into a prettily ringing trinket bell.

‘The barking and jeering dustclouds diminished and died away in the direction of the towers and vanished towards the sunset in a golden, far-tinkling haze.’

Source: Patrick Leigh Fermor, Mani: Travels in the Southern Peloponnese, introduction by Michael Gorra, New York: New York Review of Books, 2006 (1958), p. 194

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