A short trip to Illiers-Combray with my mother, who is immersed in Proust’s world, brought us to a town where time seems to stand still. As we wandered through the streets that inspired À la recherche du temps perdu, the atmosphere was steeped in quiet nostalgia, each corner inviting reflection on memory, loss, and the passage of time. It was a day of discovery, where the past felt close enough to touch, and literature wove a thread between us, connecting the present with what came before.