#literatureeffectart

Taste was that of that Madeleine

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  • Prompt: The taste was that of that Madeleine, which gave me on Sunday morning in Combray (because I did not go out of the house that day before the high mass) as soon as as soon as I said good morning to her in her room, offered me my aunt Léonie after she had dipped it in her black or lime blossom or lime blossom tea. The sight of that madeleine had said nothing to me until I had tasted it Perhaps it was because I had often seen this pastry, without eating it, on the bakers' tables, and that it made me think of it. bakers' tables, and that its image had become detached from those days in Combray and associated with other later ones, with other, later ones; perhaps also because of the fact that nothing remained of those memories memories that had so long disappeared from memory, everything had dissolved into nothing: the forms - including those of this of cake dough, which seems so sedate and sensual under its strict, pious dress of folds - had sunk or disappeared. dress - had sunk or, sunk into a deep slumber, they had lost that buoyancy through which they could have through which they could have risen into consciousness.
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