So, here goes nothing: Certain works of art make us feel nostalgic about things we never even experienced.
For a few minutes or hours or whatever, we find ourselves submerged in a world that could never really exist, and at the same time we feel that if it were to exist, it would still be a world we’d never belong to.
It’s a strange feeling, to read about experiences you never experienced, to see things you never saw in person, to hear what your ears never heard, and feel nostalgic about them. It’s like a deja vu, actually.
I believe the biggest difference between artists and “normal” people is the artists’ ability to describe what everyone feels, and sometimes, if they’re lucky, to describe something no one else has felt before.
Maybe this is one of the great things about art: making the impossible not possible, but plausible. To give us hope that the life we think we deserve can exist.