A Street Corner in Paris

Proust is rarely easy, and even this short essay proved a chore to follow, with its serpentine, multi-clausal sentences and manifold digressions. I was ready to move on to the book’s next selection when I lit upon the line about “thoughts plucked from these too-beautiful skies, skies of varying colors reflected by the window panes of the church that one caught sight of, at times, between the roofs of the village, sad skies that appeared before showers, or afterwards, too late, when the day was going to end.” Thoughts plucked from sad skies, eternally changing sad skies at day’s end, spreading over the medieval churches in French hamlets! A splendid, textured evocation of a fleeting moment, a lost time, in the villages of northern France.

Read the whole article on World Hum.

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