The sea The sea as a seascape In a frame over the dining table The sea a forever moving element Scary to seamen When they face a storm The sea as holiday background Refreshing water on a tanned skin Burnt by the sun The sea an omnipresent blue Continuation of the sky above
MoreA date with Proust
This book has been accompanying me for the last few years. It is a series of books actually, the famous Remembrance of Things Past or In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust. I try to read a few pages every weekend when I have more time on my hands. I savour every word of the original French. It
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“Lucky he who was taught history,“ as the saying I remember from my school years goes. I thought it was attributed to Plutarch, but my internet search offers up the name of Euripides. Well, I was a very negligent pupil, so I wouldn’t know. And because I was so negligent, today I regret not having
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Stabat mater dolorosa Stood the mother weeping Over the coffin of her son She was holding a photo of him In a frame Her son a soldier, aged twenty-five * The mother didn’t shout, she wasn’t loud A pretty young woman in black clothes Her pain was decent and deep Not ostentatious She didn’t beat
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