In search of lost time.Marcel Proust -Swann's Way- (Videobooks) Page 25

In search of lost time.Marcel Proust -Swann's Way- (Videobooks) Page 25 So, for a long time, when I woke up at night and again and again remembered Combray, in front of me, against the background of complete darkness, something like an illuminated vertical cut appeared - like a sparkler or an electric torch illuminate and snatch out of the darkness separate parts of the building, between while everything else is shrouded in darkness: on a fairly wide space I dreamed of a small living room, a dining room, the beginning of a dark alley, from which Swan, the involuntary cause of my grief, would appear, and the hall, where I took a few steps to the stairs, which it was so bitter for me to climb, - the staircase was the only and, moreover, a very narrow surface of an irregular pyramid, and my bedroom served as its top with a glass door to the corridor: my mother entered me through this door; in a word, it was always visible at the same hour, limited from everything around, emerging from the darkness, an unchanging decoration (like those reproduced on the front page of old plays in editions intended for provincial theaters) - the scenery of my going to bed, as if the whole of Combray consisted of two floors of a single house, connected by a narrow staircase, and as if it were always seven o'clock in the evening. It is clear that when asked whether there was anything else in Combray and whether the clock showed a different time there, I would answer in the affirmative. But this would already be a strain of memory, this would be prompted by my rational memory, and since her information about the past does not give an idea about it, I had not the slightest desire to think about the rest of Combray. In fact, he is dead to me. Dead forever? Maybe. There is a lot of chance in all this, and the last chance - death - often does not allow us to wait for the graces with which such chance as memory bestows on us. I find quite plausible the Celtic belief that the souls of those whom we have lost become captives of some lower creature - animal, plant, inanimate object; we part with them until the day - for many that never comes - when we approach the tree or when we become the owners of the object that served them as a dungeon. Here they shudder, here they call to us, and as soon as we recognize them, sorcery loses its power. We release them to freedom, and now they, having conquered death, continue to live with us. The same is true of our past. Trying to resurrect it is a vain work, all the efforts of our consciousness are in vain. The past is out of his reach, in some thing (in the sense that we get from it), where we least expected to find it. Whether we find this thing in our lifetime or never find it is pure chance. For many years nothing had existed for me in Combray but the stage and the very drama of my going to bed, but on one of the winter days, when I came home, my mother, noticing that I was cold, offered me tea, although I usually didn't drink. I refused, but then, I don’t know why, I changed my mind. Mom had ordered one of those round, fluffy biscuit cakes, which seem to be shaped like grooved shells of lamellar molluscs. Dejected by the gloomy today and the expectation of a bleak tomorrow, I automatically raised a spoonful of tea with a piece of biscuit to my mouth. But as soon as the tea with cake crumbs soaked in it touched my palate, I shuddered: something unusual happened in me. I was suddenly overwhelmed with unreasonable delight. Like a lover, I immediately became indifferent to the vicissitudes of fate, to its harmless blows, to the iridescent transience of life, I was filled with some precious substance; or rather, this substance was not in me - I myself was this substance. Archimed Production Studio produces high-quality feature films, documentaries and animation films and 360-degree panoramic animation. Winner of five international film festivals. We invite to cooperation of independent producers, distributors, investors . If you have any questions, please write to the e-mail: transfert@mail.ru The animation of all the characters in real time 3d