“And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of madeleine which on Sunday mornings, when I went to say good day to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of real or of lime-flower tea…And as soon as I had recognized the taste of the piece of madeleine soaked in the decoction of lime-blossom which my aunt used to give me, immediately the old grey house upon the street, where her room was, rose up like a stage set…and with the house the town….the streets along which I used to run errands, the country roads we took when it was fine…the whole of Combray and its surroundings, taking shape and solidity, sprang into being, town and gardens alike, from my cup of tea.”- Marcel Proust
Cotton candy…Who doesn’t like it? I remember me and my friends, getting it at the fair and making ourselves all sticky. Actually, I didn’t like it very much, but my friends did, and there was the big wave swinger too…those were the happy days.
“But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists…taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, remembering…”
Taste, smell, memories …
Time as a mystery …
