I hope that someday I have the opportunity to say "As a matter of fact, I'm one of the few guys in the city that has nothing wrong with him." Absolutely brilliant.
Wonderful pictures. I'm shocked, in love, and mostly just inspired. T, great posting. This is the right direction: what we can feel through images and how they might give us our wise and everlasting words.
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
2 comments:
I hope that someday I have the opportunity to say "As a matter of fact, I'm one of the few guys in the city that has nothing wrong with him." Absolutely brilliant.
Wonderful pictures. I'm shocked, in love, and mostly just inspired. T, great posting. This is the right direction: what we can feel through images and how they might give us our wise and everlasting words.
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