here comes Proust again dragging his knuckles across the sawdusted tavern floor 

he  wants  wine

for a goblet hed say something mundane   perhaps transcendent

Proust had always treated him kindly

he bought him wine

Proust didnt thank him likely he felt his utterance was enough

he cleared his throat looked him in the face  held up his glass as if toasting 

                                                                                 Style is a matter of vision, not technique. 

he took a sip  turned  walked away 

a poet or artist comes from their ability to FOWLIE retain the sensibility of a child 

not an invocation of childish innocence

rather a perpetual innocence towards Experience

to enter each wholly with a sense of curiosity

no memory of failures or retreats

a childish forgetfulness to help them live in the present 

Proustian vision 

                  he was happy to buy him wine

1406,  Saturday,  1  2. 92

1321 or 121,  Sunday,  14  3. 21

Eric Burdon & War  Spill the Wine  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6qcafgLHe4