Liste des hashtags les plus populaires par sujet #SANCLEMENTESYNDROM

Ok guys. Here is the crazy story about B. Before going to Bordighera, I wanted to read again the Aciman's essay I had previously only looked through - 'My Monet moment'. In this paper he describes his first encounter with pittoresque Italian town and the pains the search of original Monet locations gave him. At certain point, when he was about to give up, he stumbles upon a beautiful villa, which was frequented and painted by Monet. I made a mental note to visit the place, and was really intrigued by his phrase that now villa operates as a hotel with quite affordable prices. I was like 'no, the villa built by the famous architector of 19th century can't be that cheap' and opened booking.com to check it. Predictably, I didn't even find the hotel and was about to give up, when I saw the site of the villa, which actually gave me information about available rooms, prices and everything. Indeed, you can make a call and book a room at a bargain price, what I did to my complete amazement. But what really blew up my mind were the pictures of the villa. At that moment I was posting here last quotes from the book and the description of the Perlmans' villa and surroundings were quite fresh in memory. And I realized that villa Garnier looked pretty much like Perlmans villa. There are discrepancies, of course. In reality it's bigger and has a tower, for example. But could this be a prototype? I'm quite confident about this, especially given the sentiments the building aroused in Aciman. Can you imagine my state when I managed to book a room two days in advance in the villa, which became iconic thanks to the most delicious book ever? I'm studying Italian now by a coursebook and just three days before my discovery I learned how to book a room by phone, ask about facilities,etc, although I was quite sure about the inutility of this lexis. Come on, do we really need this in the epoch of booking.com, Airbnb etc? It appears we do, especially when we need to book a room in a very special villa❤️

. That day, after we landed, my mother desperately tried to make it up to me, speaking to me so sweetly and so amicably that we made peace soon enough. Yet the real damage was not in the cutting words she wished she hadn’t spoken and that I would never forget. The damage was to our love: it had lost its warmth, its spontaneity, and become a willed, conscious, rueful love. She was pleased to see I still loved her; I was pleased to see how readily both she and I were fooled. The two of us were aware of being pleased, which intensified our truce. But we must have sensed that being so easily reassured was nothing more than a dilution of our love. She hugged me more often, and I wanted to be hugged. But I didn’t trust my love, and I could tell, from the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t looking, that she didn’t trust it either. — 'Enigma variations' #cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynmovie #cmbynquotes #cmbynbook #cmbynlocations #callmebyyournamebook #cmbynquote #andreaciman #acimanbook #aciman #corcordium #italy #summer1983 # #armiehammer #selamore #elioandoliver #elioperlman #sanclementesyndrom #aesthetic #book #ghostspots #bookworm #cmbynfilm #callmebyyournamefilm #parallellife #enigmavariations

. “Are you happy you’re back?” ⠀ He saw through my question before I did. ⠀ “Are you happy I’m back?” he retorted. ⠀ I looked at him, feeling quite disarmed, though not threatened. Like people who blush easily but aren’t ashamed of it, I knew better than to stifle this feeling, and let myself be swayed by it. ⠀ “You know I am. More than I ought to be, perhaps.” ⠀ “Me too.” ⠀ That said it all. #cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynmovie #cmbynquotes #cmbynbook #cmbynlocations #callmebyyournamebook #cmbynquote #andreaciman #acimanbook #aciman #corcordium #italy #summer1983 #timotheechalamet #armiehammer #selamore #elioandoliver #elioperlman #elio #sanclementesyndrom #aesthetic #book #novel #bookworm #cmbynfilm #callmebyyournamefilm #parallellife#twentyyears

. “Seeing you here is like waking from a twenty-year coma. You look around you and you find that your wife has left you, your children, whose childhood you totally missed out on, are grown men, some are married, your parents have died long ago, you have no friends, and that tiny face staring at you through goggles belongs to none other than your grandson, who’s been brought along to welcome Gramps from his long sleep. Your face in the mirror is as white as Rip Van Winkle’s. ⠀ But here’s the catch: you’re still twenty years younger than those gathered around you, which is why I can be twenty-four in a second—I am twenty-four. And if you pushed the parable a few years further up, I could wake up and be younger than my elder son.” ⠀ “What does this say about the life you’ve lived, then?” ⠀ “Part of it—just part of it—was a coma, but I prefer to call it a parallel life. It sounds better. Problem is that most of us have—live, that is—more than two parallel lives.” ⠀ ⠀ May I speculate a bit about the excerpt? In my seminars on Greek philosophy, our professor explained to us once that in Plato's dialogue 'Phaedrus' you can see the traces of an earlier version, i.e. it was rewritten bit not smoothed perfectly after this. I tend to think that Oliver's monologue about coma is of the same nature due to some discrepancies. First, he talks about 20 years, but there were only 15 passed since that summer. 15 is not 18 or 19,5 to round off it as 20. He could easily say 15. Second, he mentions his wife left him, but two pages earlier he invites Elio to meet his wife. ⠀ I think originally this passage was part of the final scene where Oliver comes back twenty years later and his wife had probably left him indeed. But the following lines about parallel lifes wouldn't fit the situation, because Oliver was about to put the end to them, so the author moved Oliver's monologue earlier in time. As it is now, the passage doesn't sound so conclusive and monumental as it would at the very end. ⠀ What do you think? #cmbynbookanalysis

. Would I be able to live without his hand on my tummy or around my hips? Without kissing and licking a wound on his hip that would take weeks to heal, but away from me now? Whom else would I ever be able to call by my name? There would be others, of course, and others after others, but calling them by my name in a moment of passion would feel like a derived thrill, an affectation. . #cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynmovie #cmbynquotes #cmbynbook #cmbynlocations #callmebyyournamebook #cmbynquote #andreaciman #acimanbook #aciman #corcordium #italy #summer1983 #timotheechalamet #armiehammer #selamore #elioandoliver #elioperlman #elio #roma #sanclementesyndrom #aesthetic #book #novel #bookworm #cmbynfilm #callmebyyournamefilm#rome#lovequotes

. Oliver came up to me and asked me to play something on the piano. “What would you like?” I asked. “Anything.” This would be my thanks for the most beautiful evening of my life. I took a sip from my second martini, feeling as decadent as one of those jazz piano players who smoke a lot and drink a lot and are found dead in a gutter at the end of every film. I wanted to play Brahms. But an instinct told me to play something very quiet and contemplative. So I played one of the Goldberg Variations, which made me quiet and contemplative. There was a sigh among the fifteen or so, which pleased me, since this was my only way of repaying for this magical evening. When I was asked to play something else, I proposed a capriccio by Brahms. They all agreed it was a wonderful idea, until the devil took hold of me and, after playing the opening bars of the capriccio, out of nowhere I started to play a stornello. The contrast caught them all by surprise and all began to sing, though not in unison, for each sang the stornello he or she knew. Each time we came to the refrain, we agreed we’d all sing the same words, which earlier that evening Oliver and I had heard Dante the statue recite. Everyone was ecstatic, and I was asked to play another, then another. Roman stornelli are usually bawdy, lilting songs, not the lacerating, heart-wrenching arias from Naples. In the movie he plays the piano before their first night together. In the book it's like a preamble to their last one. Just look at the choice of music.

. Like every experience that marks us for a lifetime, I found myself turned inside out, drawn and quartered. This was the sum of everything I’d been in my life—and more: who I am when I sing and stir-fry vegetables for my family and friends on Sunday afternoons; who I am when I wake up on freezing nights and want nothing more than to throw on a sweater, rush to my desk, and write about the person I know no one knows I am; who I am when I crave to be naked with another naked body, or when I crave to be alone in the world; who I am when every part of me seems miles and centuries apart and each swears it bears my name. . #cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynmovie #cmbynquotes #cmbynbook #cmbynlocations #callmebyyournamebook #cmbynquote #andreaciman #acimanbook #aciman #corcordium #italy #summer1983 #timotheechalamet #armiehammer #selamore #elioandoliver #elioperlman #elio #roma #sanclementesyndrom #aesthetic #book #novel #bookworm #cmbynfilm #callmebyyournamefilm#rome#lovequotes

The most perfect creature on earth. I mean the cat, of course #cmbyn #callmebyyourname #cmbynmovie #cmbynquotes #cmbynbook #cmbynlocations #callmebyyournamebook #cmbynquote #andreaciman #acimanbook #aciman #corcordium #italy #summer1983 #timotheechalamet #armiehammer #selamore #elioandoliver #elioperlman #elio #sanclementesyndrom #aesthetic #book #novel #bookworm #cmbynfilm #callmebyyournamefilm#cat#catsofinstagram

. And he proceeded to explain the intricacies of a straight-up dry martini. He was okay being a bartender to the bar’s help. ⠀ “Where did you learn this?” I asked. ⠀ “Mixology 101. Courtesy Harvard. Weekends, I made a living as a bartender all through college. Then I became a chef, then a caterer. But always a poker player.” ⠀ His undergraduate years, each time he spoke of them, acquired a limelit, incandescent magic, as if they belonged to another life, a life to which I had no access since it already belonged to the past. Proof of its existence trickled, as it did now, in his ability to mix drinks, or to tell arcane grappas apart, or to speak to all women, or in the mysterious square envelopes addressed to him that arrived at our house from all over the world. I had never envied him the past, nor felt threatened by it. All these facets of his life had the mysterious character of incidents that had occurred in my father’s life long before my birth but which continued to resonate into the present. I didn’t envy life before me, nor did I ache to travel back to the time when he had been my age.