The disturbance rises from within, but it’s something which comes between an itch and a brief moment of embarassment. Sorry to be vague, even I can’t really define the feeling — for now.
“He is at first a distant wave, the wake-wedge of a loon as it surfaces. The day is cold and gray as stone. In the middistance the swimmer splits into parts, smoothly angled arms and a matte black head.” [Lauren Groff, Surfacing]