In Search of Lost Time - Overture

Sometimes, when she was writing, she would lose herself in a story so completely that the next morning, when she opened her document file and looked at the manuscript,

And did so, forgetting Olivia, forgetting the time. She often did this. Time had lost its importance. That was one of the good things about getting old: you weren’t perpetually in a hurry. All her life, Penelope had looked after other people, but now she had no one to think about but herself. There was time to stop and look, and, looking, to rememb

“I read a good phrase about the passing of time,” he said, kicking a plastic bottle. “What was it?” “It got late, very early.” I laughed, although I wasn’t old enough to fully understand the deadly accuracy and truth of that short phrase.

And then, for an hour, he became aware of the strange life he was leading. He perceived himself doing lots of things which were only a game; he saw that, although happy and joyous at times, that real life was passing him by without touching him.