Imagine you are in a thick forest.
The old trees stand guard. The winding river gently invites you deeper.
A half-penetrable mist settles over the water.
No sound. No birds.
Just the gentle trickle of water dropping from the oars.
A maddening shriek tears the sky. A primeval scream.
The old trees stand guard against vainglorious usurpers.
The river flows. The oars push ahead.
A heart of darkness.
Make of it what you will....from Orson Welles's 1938 radio drama on Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness":
The heart of darkness could be described as a deliberate masterpiece or a downright incantation. A fine piece of prose work at the least. Its best aspects are an artful compound of sympathy for humankind and a high tragical disgust. Its successful contrivance of mood hides its craft as an octopus hides in its own ink and almost we are persuaded that there is something after all; something essential; waiting for all of us in the dark alleys of the world; aboriginally loathsome; immeasurable and certainly nameless.