>Finally, Carter sensitively tackles the contentious issue of Proust's friendship with the brothel-owner Albert Le Cuziat, whose establishment Proust may have financed and certainly frequented and where, according to some observers, he reached sexual climax by defiling a photograph of his mother and watching the torture of rats.
Fucking hell. Is this true?
This is much worse than Joyce's letters.
Jesus Christ.
we some abstract niggaz man
>This is much worse than Joyce's letters.
That was my reaction In Search of Lost Time.
sexual perversion/deviance is patrician
what do you wank to? boring amateur porn videos from the "big boob" category? a little hardcore interracial porn at the most? you massive pleb, OP
>what do you wank to?
>not only is he a degenerate self-molester but he can't even picture that others aren't
Where's this from?
The madman even put a scene in the first volume of his masterpiece where he sees a young woman spitting into her dead father's photograph while fucking a guy.
*girl
goddamn at least get it right phony
>no source
This 2bh. It's why aristocrats are alwys paedos
oops
did proust have jewish blood? he doesnt look so hot in that photo
yeah he was like half jewish man
His mom was jewish.
I'm going to need a direct quote or development on this, lads. Sounds deviant af
Atleast he's not as bad as algernon charles swinburne, the guy brought maupassant into his room at his vacation spot after Mau saved him and they showed him pictures of men jacking off to try and convert him.
Also constantly had boys being brought into his getaway which he'd defile.
Guy was a sick fuck.
Scat fetish here desu. Joyce is my spirit animal.
>At last Mlle Vinteuil collapsed on the sofa with her friend lying on top of her. The latter now had her back turned to the little table on which the old music-master's portrait had been arranged. Mlle Vinteuil realized her friend would not see it unless her attetnion were drawn to it, and so exclaimed, as if she herself had just noticed it for the first time: "Oh! there's my father's picture looking at us; I can't think who can have put it there; I'm sure I've told them a dozen times that it isn't the proper place for it."
>"Do you know what I should like to do to this old horror?" she said, taking up the photograph. And she murmured something in Mlle Vinteuil's ear that I could not distinguish.
>"Oh, you wouldn't dare!"
>"Not dare to spit on it? on that?" said the friend with studied brutality.
>I heard no more, for Mlle Vinteuil, with an air that was at once languid, awkward, bustling, honest and sad, came to the window and drew the shutters closed.
t. the moral outrage of plebeians when they see behind the curtain of aristocracy
You want be laughing in Hell.
>torture of rats
guess he would have been a scientist today