To see a world in a grain of sand

Neville Jason must have read through it all a few times before recording this as he channels the closest match to what must be what some call the “ring of truth” in his reading of Marcel’s voice - albeit in English, and just as in the way in which the text describes the relationship of the names of things to the objects to which they refer, the very sentence-structures fall like drops of water which, circling out from themselves, trace the widening arcs of their own ripples as they describe the impressions and repercussions made by the softest footprints, such as the memory within a memory in the frozen moment of the fairy forest, in front of the talking Hawthorn bush, in the company of fairies and with a profound quietness, that is laid out like a blanket woven in a spell of language, then to a vortex of feelings that sublimate, pack up and then unpack the ocean, the cathedrals, grandmother and servants, in the moment of a kiss. It is the ultimate expression of art for art’s sake, as though the world has no greater possibility of meaning than to have life breathed into every moment with flowers and art and faces. There is no political message or sociological. It is how beautiful the material world can be when the eye of god slows down time and shines a bright light on a small area.

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