The man who wrote these pieces was no flaneur. They embody, in ironic form, the same experiences which Baudelaire put into this sentence, without any trimmings and in passing: "Perdu dans ce vila in monde, coudoye par les fouIes, je suis comme un homme lasse don't l'oeil ne voit en arriere, dans les annees profondes, que desabusement et rtmertume, et, devant lui, qu'un orage aU rien de neuf n'est contenu, ni enseignement ni douleur." [...]
"Lost in this mean world, jostled by the crowd, I am like a weary man
whose eye, looking backwards, into the depth of the years, sees nothing but
disillusion and bitterness, and before him nothing but a tempest which contains nothing new, neither instruction nor pain."
wow
The man who wrote these pieces was no flaneur. They embody, in ironic form, the same experiences which Baudelaire put into this sentence, without any trimmings and in passing: "Perdu dans ce vila in monde, coudoye par les fouIes, je suis comme un homme lasse don't l'oeil ne voit en arriere, dans les annees profondes, que desabusement et rtmertume, et, devant lui, qu'un orage aU rien de neuf n'est contenu, ni enseignement ni douleur." [...]
"Lost in this mean world, jostled by the crowd, I am like a weary man
whose eye, looking backwards, into the depth of the years, sees nothing but
disillusion and bitterness, and before him nothing but a tempest which contains nothing new, neither instruction nor pain."
wow