Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.
You know, I think it’s about envy.
The image produced by a gray, wet street has something consoling and dreamy about it, and so you stand now upon the rear platform of the creaking car that is rumbling its way forward, and you gaze straight ahead.
In the Electric Tram by Robert Walser [Berlin, 1908]
All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are beautiful: but the beauty is grim.
Christopher Morley, Where the Blue Begins (via keely-anne)
Nostalgia, while comforting is ultimately hollow and even destructive, distancing us from the people and pursuits we love in the present, which is the only reality of which we can ever be certain.
It is sadder to find the past again and find it inadequate to the present than it is to have it elude you and remain forever a harmonious conception of memory.