“Poets claim that we recapture for a moment the self that we were long ago when we enter some house or garden in which we used to live in our youth. But these are most hazardous pilgrimages, which end as often in disappointment as in success. It is in ourselves that we should rather seek to find those fixed places, contemporaneous with different years.” – Marcel Proust, The Guermantes Way (trans. Moncrieff and Kilmartin)

2 thoughts on “Nested”

  1. El Paso, Texas, the city where I grew up, and where my parents still live, became more difficult for me to visit as the years went by. The city has changed so much, yet it is haunted for me by the ghosts of all that had gone before.

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