flâneur

The third chair - by Henrik Karlsson - Escaping Flatland

henrikkarlsson.xyz · 359 words · saved by 4 readers

I remembered my loneliness; I felt it with a defencelessness that I had denied myself at the time. The feeling that writing was impossible; that I would never find a place in the world that felt like home; that no one except my wife would ever care about me, about the things that for me held meaning.

From Ivan’s Childhood (1962) by Andrei Tarkovsky 22 February. On Wednesday night, I had an errand at the store in the village where we lived when we first came to the island. Having some time to waste, I went to the library. I used to sit down there, writing, or trying to write, four long years ago. In Denmark you can open all public libraries with your social security card, so although it was closed, I walked in. The stacks lit up. It was like entering a Proustian memory. The stale, dry air reactivated feelings I had forgotten, or repressed. I remembered my loneliness; I felt it with a…

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