Ever since I was a young girl and heard about Proust and his magnum opus I imagined, the image which has stuck in my mind, is of a naked Proust sitting in his copper bathtub surrounded by cork walls and gazing into his navel which has liquid bath water in it.
This image still haunts me whenever I even say his name.
(perhaps the title should be Wet Image for this post)
No comments:
Post a Comment