"One thing at a time, and that done well." It counts, really so much, but we know what we are. It doesn't matter after all, for it's really interesting to learn about a character, a real person, being there before my own eyes whose pupils react how I have no idea during the real time moment, a character, someone more or less close to me, whose some certain mannerisms, like his idiosyncrasy of the sort much well attempted to keep hidden from me but there as scattered, fleeting sparks from a brand of smoldering wood, relate that much about what I have been reading. What I've been reading? What else but Marcel Proust's Cities of the Plain (Sodom and Gomorrah) and The Captive whereof the latter is just at its close. I am very much sure his sixth one, Fugitive, will broach over it as well. Time Regained, his seventh or the last one, I wish can be of some use for me as well, to be able to let myself hit the way, namely wrap up the circus-stages of words into something readable ones.
