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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Goodbye. Das große Fressen ist vorbei. Die Zunge ist gelockert. Der Wein schiebt das Karussell an, der Wein hält und schiebt und hält und schiebt und hält um schließlich anzuschieben das Karussell an. Unter der Zunge taut und friert und taut und friert um schließlich ganz Rutschbahn zu sein, ein Blitzeis nach dem Fressen. Da
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![Wine & Paint event on 9 Nov. 2024 at Felix Restaurant, Leipzig. Photo: Florian Reime (@reime.visuals] / Wine & Paint Leipzig](https://leipglo.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/12/pixelcut-export-e1733056018933-150x150.jpeg){kind=tracking}
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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I guess it can’t be too often that two people can laugh and make love, too, make love because they are laughing, laugh because they’re making love. The love and the laughter come from the same place: but not many people go there. (If Beale Street Could Talk, p. 15) Love, its absence, and its
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