In a love affair, most seek an eternal homeland. Others, but very few, eternal voyaging. These latter are melancholics, for whom contact with mother earth is to be shunned. They seek the person who will keep far from them the homeland’s sadness. To that person, they remain faithful.–One Way Street
Hello from the British Library, where I’m reading Harry Mathews’s The Orchard, a series of reminiscences of George Perec after his death in 1982. After reading a few of the entries (“his Afro hair and his goatee gave his face the projective power of a primitive mask,” 1) I got curious enough to image search a picture of Perec. If you’ve never seen one, get ready.
“I remember Georges Perec grinning madly as he danced a furious jerk with Catherine B. in Andy Warhol’s apartment, which Renaud C. had borrowed for a big party. After working up a tremendous sweat, Georges Perec asked to take a shower. He soon reappeared among us with only a towel around his waist. He was irresistible” (6).