“Preludes” speaks of an experience of collective time in the modern city as it fractures, interrupts, and repeats itself, eliciting a groundhog-day-esque feeling of recurring stasis and disillusionment.
Noa and Mother folded into each other and wept like charcoal silhouettes against a bleak world, before Noa left for the place where the sea meets the sky.
When law requires “only” confession for its functioning, what exists beyond this axiomatic logic? Where does confession reach its limits? Where do its uses turn on themselves?
Eliot’s representation of the senses is wide, and can be both personal to the intended reader, or more universalized, general descriptions which portray the poignant scenes for which Eliot is so famous.
