"The aviator, meanwhile, seemed to be hesitating over his course; I felt there to lie open before him - before me, had habit not made me its prisoner - every course through space, or through life; he flew farther on, glided for a moment or two above the sea, then, abruptly making his up his mind, seeming to yield to some inverse attraction to that of gravity, as if returning to his native land, with a slight movement of his golden wings, he headed straight up into the sky."
Is Proust also speaking of his experience with his lover, then departed? I wonder what you make of it. If anything.
Through the Window: Corniglia, Italy
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