In the perfect darkness, buoyant in the salt water, Mrs. Coulter had the impression of floating in empty space, of flying or falling through a limitless, starless night. It was peaceful, she thought. She knew Lord Asriel was in her arms because she could hear him breathing, but as long as she kept utterly still there was no way for her to know where he ended and she began, and she felt a profound longing to lay her faithless heart over his strong, brave one, and teach it once and for all to keep time. Suddenly a terrible fear shook her: what if she were to feel for that steady pulse and find it silent? In response to the thought, the tranquil eternity that had surrounded them closed in on her, the heavy walls were mere inches away on every side, and the world became a tomb. She sat up forcefully, tearing at the wedge of wood blocking the sluice, and as the water gurgled away she climbed out of the bath so quickly her head swam.

Archbishop (Portrait of Antoniy Volynskiy), 1917, Mikhail Nesterov

Tom Price - Synthesis 1 & 2