Click here for Marienbad timeless simulation This is a textual simulation of Last Year in Marienbad. You need Javascript on for this page to work. Perhaps it begins like this… Can I explain? … I can picture the labyrinthine palace, a luxury hotel for the timelessly wealthy, a country paradise for its elegant clientele. Its baroque French design was geometric, perpendicular and right angular, though punctuated with classical looking pictures and statues, and decorated with elaborate ornamentation. In an opulent hotel with vast gardens, guests gossip languidly about a scandal. Last year in Marienbad the weather was impossibly cold, icy. They had an affair. Was it then? She cannot remember. He wants to convince her that last year, perhaps in Marienbad, they had met, become lovers, and even planned to leave together. Always walls, always corridors, always doors, and on the other side, still more walls. Between these walls covered with fine oils, damask and gilt, among which I was walking, among which I was waiting for you, very far away from this setting where I now stand, in front of you, still waiting for the man who will no longer come, who no longer threatens to come to separate us again, to tear you away from me. Are you coming? The curtain falls to polite applause. Now, I seem to remember—a play, a production put on for the guests, it was so cold.On the walls were framed prints of the immense formal park outside with its exceedingly regular late seventeenth century French formal layout. All the paintings in the hotel were of the resort itself and its gardens. Simulation by Mike Magee"Back to return
This is a textual simulation of Last Year in Marienbad. You need Javascript on for this page to work. Perhaps it begins like this…
Can I explain? … I can picture the labyrinthine palace, a luxury hotel for the timelessly wealthy, a country paradise for its elegant clientele. Its baroque French design was geometric, perpendicular and right angular, though punctuated with classical looking pictures and statues, and decorated with elaborate ornamentation. In an opulent hotel with vast gardens, guests gossip languidly about a scandal. Last year in Marienbad the weather was impossibly cold, icy. They had an affair. Was it then? She cannot remember. He wants to convince her that last year, perhaps in Marienbad, they had met, become lovers, and even planned to leave together. Always walls, always corridors, always doors, and on the other side, still more walls. Between these walls covered with fine oils, damask and gilt, among which I was walking, among which I was waiting for you, very far away from this setting where I now stand, in front of you, still waiting for the man who will no longer come, who no longer threatens to come to separate us again, to tear you away from me. Are you coming? The curtain falls to polite applause. Now, I seem to remember—a play, a production put on for the guests, it was so cold.On the walls were framed prints of the immense formal park outside with its exceedingly regular late seventeenth century French formal layout. All the paintings in the hotel were of the resort itself and its gardens.