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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460474" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0021 Under the bridge of time</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oui, c'est beaux, le jardin... at this time of year; <br>mais... for myself, <br>a little too overgrown – but Monsieur<br>prefers it that way… you see him down there<br>by the lily pond, the nymphées? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He’s nearly blind now, yet he’s out all day<br>and nearly every day. He draws life from the garden, <br>je crois; and though there are some who laugh<br>and say, his paintings are now<br>mere daubs, when I see them<br>and then go out into the garden, <br>there’s a truth there, beyond what we see…<br>what passes, what floats serene and unaffected...<br>what floats on time itself...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You may find this fanciful, but I’ve watched Monsieur<br>over the years: first he had the garden made, <br>when he could afford it, and the bridge and then the pool<br>that slows the river… then he painted the lilies which we planted, <br>floating on the water, all the colours<br>of sunshine as you see it through a prism…then he painted<br>the sunlight on the water… then<br>he seemed to paint the flow of the water<br>as it passed… and then he seemed to be painting<br>time itself, passing under the bridge<br>where we’re standing here, as if<br>outside time… and now, <br>qu’est-ce qu’on dit? I think<br>he’s painting the philosophy of time –<br>Monsieur Bergson le philosophe<br>agrees with me – in paint; perhaps<br>one might say, painting<br>the future of painting…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">yet, the flow of time and death came first, they say: <br>Monsieur began to paint his water-lilies<br>after he had seen the photos of the solemn river<br>of corpses in the trenches<br>in that terrible war; even, it's said, <br>the same colours of the unburied dead who putrify<br>are the same colours that he sees<br>in the water-lilies...c'est étrange, n'est-ce-pas? <br>a sort of redemption in the painter's palette...<br>this, I feel, gives these pretty paintings<br>the vision that drives Monsieur <br>to find beauty in its opposite...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but it’s cooling now; Monsieur<br>likes to enjoy that glowing light of early evening, <br>the precious departing of the light…<br>the light of life itself...<br>I’ll fetch his rug…these artists seem to<br>lose themselves in what they see…<br>they don’t seem to notice passing time, <br>it’s as if they think they live where time is space; <br>or perhaps, time’s so precious for Monsieur<br>that he paints it running out…</div><div style="margin:10px 0">but I mustn’t keep you, M’sieur Proust –<br>it was so kind of you to find the time<br>to visit, and you too, M’sieur Debussy –<br>it has been quite a day to remember, n’est-ce pas? …<br>and now for Monsieur’s rug…</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460474" data-title="0021 Under the bridge of time de Michael Shepherd" data-description="Oui, c'est beaux, le jardin... at this time of year; 
mais... for myself, 
a little too overgrown – but Monsieur
prefers it that way… you see him down there
by the lily pond, the nymphées? 

He’s nearly blind now, yet he’s out all day
and..."></div>
</div>
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