我最近对他老人家的爱情复燃， 更是发现了他早年写埃及的那些事情，他写的骆驼让我从眼睛湿到心里。。。他一生的风格其实是他的埃及之旅的延续， Exotic and Erotic.
Flaubert wrote from Cairo:
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One of the finest things is the camel, I never tire of watching this strange beast that lurches like a donkey and sways its neck like a swan. Its cry is something that I wear myself out trying to imitate---I hope to bring it back with me, but it’s hard to reproduce: a rattle with a kind of tremulous gargling as an accompaniment.
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But my real passion is the camel (please don’t think I’m joking): nothing has a more singular grace than this melancholic animal. You have to see a group of them in the desert when they advance in single file across the horizon, like soldiers; their necks stick out like those of ostriches, and they keep going, going……
Flaubert wrote a woman on deck:
A young and slender creature wearing a long green veil over her straw hat. Under her silk jacket, she had on a short frock coat with a velvet collar and pockets on either side in which she had put her hands. Two rows of buttons run down her front, holding her in tightly and tracing the outline of her hips, from which flowed the numerous pleats of her dress, which rubbed against her knees in the wind. She wore tight black gloves and spent most of the journey leaning against the railing and looking out at the banks of the river…..I’m obsessed with inventing stories for people I come cross. An overwhelming curiosity makes me ask myself what their names, what they’re thinking about at that moment, what they regret, what they hope for, whom they’re loved, what they dream of……and if they happen to be women (especially youngish ones), then the urge becomes intense. How quickly you would want to see that one naked, admit it, and naked through to her heart. How you try to learn where she’s coming from, where she’s going, why she’s here and not elsewhere! While letting your eyes wander all over her, you imagine love affairs for her, you ascribe deep feeling to her. You think of what her bedroom could look like, and a thousand things besides….right down to the battered slippers into which she must slip her feet when she gets out of bed.
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