I was saddened by the loss of my strip of pink sky, when I caught sight of it again, now reddening, in the window on the other side, from which it disappeared at another bend in the line. And I dodged from one window to the other, trying to reassemble the offset intermittent fragments of my lovely, changeable red morning, so as to see it for once as a single lasting picture.
— Marcel Proust, In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower (via charlottecollection)
(via libraryland)
Notes:
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break-blow-burn reblogged this from gwyon and added:
Beautifully written. :)
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