Sometimes in the afternoon sky the moon would pass white as a cloud, furtive, lusterless, like an actress who does not have to perform yet and who, from the audience, in street clothes, watches the other actors for a moment, making herself inconspicuous, not wanting anyone to pay attention to her.
Proust, Marcel. Swann’s Way (In Search of Lost Time) (pp. 162-163). Lydia Davis translation