Art
"That day, the signs that lessened my discouragement and
restored my faith in writing seemed to multiply around me.
As If memory , thanks to the act of forgetting offers no bridge from itself to the present.
It allows us to breath new air, new because we’ve breathed it before. Poets tried vainly to situate this air in
paradise but paradise are those we have lost.
This meant, my own fear of death stopped as I recalled the
taste of the madeleine, at that moment the person I had been became extra-temporal
, that person existed outside of activity or immediate enjoyment, each time the
miracle of analogy made me escape from the present . I felt no pleasure with
balbec or when I had lived with Albertine,
I felt it after the fact, I had to interpret the sensations like signs ,
laws and ideas, trying to think, to pull what I had once felt out f the
shadows, to convert it to it’s spiritual equivalent.
The only means of doing so was to create, a work of art."
Marcel Proust
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