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The Death of R…

by rich51bruhh

“Latterly during the loneliness in which he found himself as he lay facing the back of the sofa, a loneliness in the midst of a populous town and surrounded by numerous acquaintances and relations but that yet could not have been more complete—either at the bottom of the sea or under the earth—during that terrible loneliness Ivan Ilyich had lived only in memories of the past. Pictures of his past rose before him one after another. They always began with what was nearest in time and then went back to what was most remote—to his childhood—and rested there.”

-Leo Tolstoy (The Death of Ivan Ilyich)

This exactly how I have felt for a long time. When I say that I live in the past, this is what I mean. I used to sit around with visions of past memories. I used to like to lay down and put on some music that reminds me of the past and I sort of… time travel. If I were to have actually gone through with my plans, I imagine to have been like this.  “They always began with what was nearest in time and then went back to what was most remote—to his childhood—and rested there.”

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NicoleK 2/21/2016 - 8:04 pm

I love this passage, Tolstoy, and most Russian literature. So very relatable, unfortunately. I’ve been thinking this concept lately as well…nostalgia can be torturous.

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