is that a pinhole camera you're holding? or is does your imaginary friend on the oatmeal box extol virtues of integrity, purity and honesty - which surely you'd forget in its absense? especially on the beach.
Every time I had met her during the fifteen years of our — well, I fail to find the precise term for our kind of relationship — she had not seemed to recognize me at once; and this time too she remained quite still for a moment, on the opposite sidewalk, half turning towards me in sympathetic incertitude mixed with curiosity, only her yellow scarf already on the move like those dogs that recognize you before their owners do — and then she uttered a cry, her hands up, all her ten fingers dancing, and in the middle of the street, with merely the frank impulsiveness of an old friendship (just as she would rapidly make the sign of the cross over me every time we parted), she kissed me thrice with more mouth than meaning, and then walked beside me, hanging on to me, adjusting her stride to mine, hampered by her narrow brown skirt perfunctorily slit down the side. - Nabokov, Spring in Fialta
4 comments:
these rings make me appear terrestrial.
gravity's attempt to defy me.
is that a pinhole camera you're holding? or is does your imaginary friend on the oatmeal box extol virtues of integrity, purity and honesty - which surely you'd forget in its absense? especially on the beach.
naughty ten year old with a b.b. gun scope.
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