Echoes

leggendo l'ultimo post del sior S., alla frase

sta notte avrei voluto trovarmi sopra il cavalcavia di ritorno verso casa con lei o con un buon amico o anche da solo felice perchè non deve esserci un motivo per essere contento, vivo a pensare solo che è grandioso questo...ora...e che domani sarà ancora meglio!!!

è riecheggiato in me il motivo per cui ho scelto The Hours come materia per la tesi di laurea ma, soprattutto, il concetto che lo ha reso il mio romanzo preferito:

Indeed, his own life was a miracle; let him make no mistake about it; here he was in the prime of life, walking to his house in Westminster to tell Clarissa that he loved her. Happiness is this, he thought.

It is this, he said, as he entered Dean’s Yard.

Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

It had seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later, to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and walk, the anticipation of dinner and a book. […] There is still that singular perfection, and it’s perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows: That was the moment, right then. There has been no other.

Michael Cunningham, The Hours

I remember, one morning, getting up at down, there was such a sense of possibility. You know? That feeling? And I remember thinking to myself, “so this is the beginning of happiness, this is where it starts, and of course, there’ll always be more”. It never occurred to me, it wasn’t the beginning, it was happiness. It was the moment. Right then.

David Hare, The Hours