"The truth is that I scarcely belong to this earth upon which I feel myself such an exile; it takes all the force of the law of gravity to hold me here, to keep me from escaping into another sphere. I belong to a different planet."
Marcel Proust, The Guermantes Way, p. 156
Proust runs into his friend Legrandin, who shares these thoughts. I don't know why this particular brief passage speaks to me so directly, but it does. As we've discussed my Dad always complained/opined that I was never really truly there. I was not hard to raise, just often distant. These words are the Proustian version of the brilliant Neil Young song On the Beach.
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