European Diary

Time and Tide

I should like to live in a different time. Not in the sense of being corporeally present in an earlier epoch, with all its physical plant, its local color, and a bustling mise en scène, but in that metaphysical sense, akin to tempo in music, which previous epochs never neglected to set. Our own time does no such thing. It just flows at the speed of a cataract, hurtling us toward some Stygian, tone-deaf, stone-dead sea.

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