Included Photographs & Texts
“With her foot on the threshold she waited a moment longer in a scene which was vanishing even as she looked, and then, as she moved and took Minta's arm and left the room, it changed, it shaped itself differently; it had become, she knew, giving one last look at it over her shoulder, already the past.”
—Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse
“Giovannino and Serenella crept up to the table. There was tea, milk, and sponge
cake. They had only to sit down and help themselves. They poured out two cups of
tea and cut two slices of cake. But somehow they did not feel at all at ease, and sat
perched on the edge of their chairs, their knees shaking. And they could not really
enjoy the tea and cake, for nothing seemed to have any taste. Everything in the
garden was like that: lovely but impossible to enjoy properly, with that worrying
feeling inside that they were only there through an odd stroke of luck, and the fear
that they’d soon have to give an account of themselves.”
“To want nothing. Just to wait, until there is nothing left to wait for. Just to wander, and to sleep. To let yourself be carried along by the crowds, and the streets. To follow the gutters, the fences, the water’s edge. To walk the length of the embankments, to hug the walls. To waste your time. To have no projects, to feel no impatience. To be without desire, or resentment, or revolt.”
—Georges Perec, A Man Asleep
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