If i could just remember to water my plants
He is in the tremendous sea. Under foot he has nothing but what flees and crumbles. The billows, torn and lashed by the wind, encompass him hideously; the tossing of the abyss bear him away; all the tongues of water dash over his head; a populace of waves spits upon him; confused openings half devour him; every time that he sinks, he catches glimpses of precipices filled with night; frightful and unknown vegetations seize him, knot about his feet, draw him to them; he is conscious that he is becoming an abyss, that he forms part of the foam; the waves toss him from one to another; he drinks in the bitterness; the cowardly ocean attacks him furiously, to drown him; the enormity plays with his agony. It seems as though all that water were hate.
Nevertheless, he stuggles.
Un homme a la mer- Les Miserables, Victor Hugo
this passage is an amazing metaphor for the suffering of a man amongst a society crumbling from the weight top, down. Hugo, and everything I’ve read of literature engage is incredibly applicable to what happens today. When will we learn?