“…a writer’s works, like the water in an artesian well, mount to a height which is, in proportion to the depth to which suffering has penetrated his soul.”
― Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past: Volume I – Swann’s Way & Within a Budding Grove
“The places we have known do not belong solely to the world of space in which we situate them for our greater convenience. They were only a thin slice among contiguous impressions which formed our life at that time; the memory of a certain image is but regret for a certain moment; and houses, roads, avenues are as fleeting, alas, as the years.”
― Marcel Proust, Swann’s Way
“And so it is with our own past. It is a labour in vain to attempt to recapture it: all the efforts of our intellect must prove futile. The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) of which we have no inkling. And it depends on chance whether or not we come upon this object before we ourselves must die.”
When first I read the prompt, the bluelink_Proust, Urban Breackdown Poetree, then it just popped up, a lot of ideas, words, and image, I was itching with words to patch those broken fragments that we call meanings. The Golden Ages– at the turn of the 60’s, I was not taller than three apples, It was the years of the Rock n’ Roll, the Twist dance in France, and by ricochet, Algiers which was part of the French colonies. Elvis Presley and Johnny Halliday, the French idol and singer, we danced on their rhythms smorgasbord and yeye, with a coca cola glass-bottle in one hand. Wearing a blue jeans and italian shoes and a shit à la James Dean, we tried a Camel cigarette without filtertip, hiding in the lavatories courtyard of the school, we were so vain to be discovered by the teacher the instant we were coughing and gawking at each others with our eyes red and with open_we had not hat to hung on our eyes_Mark Twins. Oran, at the west of Algeria at this time was plugged on James Brown’ Getta Up ah, and Otis Redding. Then came the beat generation years, Hippies, Rolling Stones, Beach Boys, and The Beatles back from USSR, and going to the USA, It has been a hard daysnights having fun. Suddenly we discovered Vietnam, as we grown up a little bit, still no more than four apples.
Then came The Golden Ages, the Seventies_Eighties, those were on our twenties, Le Bel Age, after had been teens forever