Young Jim, his father, and the mattress (p. 497)
I briefly imagined every piece of furniture in the bedroom covered with sheets and the room unoccupied for years as the sun rose and crossed and fell outside the window, the room's daylight becoming staler and staler.
Context
Young Jim's reverie over the dusty bed frame: years of diurnal cycles that renew nothing — the sterile face of repetition, just before the doorknob shows him the generative one.