Yesterday's post refers to what happens to Sartre's protagonist on February 2, 1938, 5:30 p.m. Fifty years later, on March 6, 1989, on the other side of the Channel, Derek Jarman filed this in his journal:
"Weeded the back garden, wired over the fennel the rabbits keep cutting back, planted two new irises and montbretsia. At 5:30 I sat on the old wicker chair facing the setting sun and read the newspapers. A slight chill descended; a choir of gnats floated by, golden sparks catching the last rays of the sun. The wind got up, bringing the smell of the sea; a russet kestrel flew by. Extraordinary peacefulness." (30)
No comments:
Post a Comment