weirdmonger
THE LAST BALCONY (www.nemonymous.com)
Cocteau on seeing Proust's corpse, with the manuscript of In Search Of Lost Time piled on the mantlepiece:
That pile of paper on his left was still alive, like watches ticking on the wrists of dead soldiers.
That pile of paper on his left was still alive, like watches ticking on the wrists of dead soldiers.
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