Time has slipped by so quickly that his heart has not had a chance to grow old...
The winds of time were blowing; heedless of mankind, they swept back and forth across the world, consuming all beauty in their path. No one could escape them, not even children so newly born as to be still unnamed. Time was slipping past, beating life out silently and with ever increasing speed; there is no time to halt even for a second, not even for a glance behind. "Stop, stop," one feels like crying, but then one sees it is useless. Everything goes by – men, the seasons, the clouds, and there is no use clinging to the stones, no use fighting it out on some rock in midstream; the tired fingers open, the arms fall back inertly and you are still dragged into the river, the river which seems to flow so slowly yet never stops.
The final pages of this book left me desolate, just like the Tartar steppe. One of my favorite books that deals with one of my favorite subjects; the concept of time. The inevitable passage of time. The future that, without realizing it, ends up behind your back, becoming a lost opportunity.
Oublier le temps, des malentendus, et les temps perdu... sang Jacques Brel.
I feel it necessary to write a long review for The Tartar Steppe. I will do it one day. But there's still time...
🎶 Le Vent Nous Portera by Noir Desir playing in the background...
