"I can’t really remember the days. The light of the sun blurred and annihilated all color. But the nights, I remember them. The blue was more distant than the sky, beyond all depths, covering the bounds of the world. The sky, for me, was the stretch of pure brilliance crossing the blue, that cold coalescence beyond all color… The light fell from the sky in cataracts of pure transparency, in torrents of silence and immobility. The air was blue, you could hold it in your hand. Blue. The sky was the continual throbbing of the brilliance of the light… Every night was different, each one had a name as long as it lasted."
—
The Lover, Marguerite Duras (via phantomcelluloid)
Give or take a day, I finished this book one year ago in Paris, somewhere on the Left Bank.
(via aclockwithouthands)
i’m in the middle of reading this. i kind of wish i hadn’t seen the film already.
(via aclockwithouthands)
