Letter (June)

Re-reading Proust, the thousands of squares that comprise his sustained memory play, which we look at with why, wherefore, when, what, who… Sometimes it looks easy. Even one square is at once a matter of wonder and questions. As when Marcel, by surprise, receives a letter from the source of his secret passion, Gilberte: “And thought cannot instantly assimilate a sheet of paper covered in letters.” Like getting text from the very person we would least expect, but delight in. Instead of reading each word like city streets of passing shops, there’s only gorgeous rain filling vision from June skies.