Sunday, July 17, 2011

Gods, nabakov

Thus I gain entry to your overcast eyes, to a narrow alley of black glimmer where the nocturnal rain gurgles and rustles. Give me a smile. Why do you look at me so balefully and darkly? It's morning. All night the stars shrieked with infant voices and, on the roof, someone lacerated and caressed a violin with a sharp bow.. Dust starts swirling in your eyes, millions of golden worlds. You smiled!
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7 comments:

  1. LProfetaJuly 17, 2011 at 5:59 AM

    Best of the best, read Nabakov when day is done, marvel some when lateness comes home.

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  2. LProfetaJuly 17, 2011 at 6:01 AM

    Stun, reflected at his shorter stories.

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  3. LProfetaJuly 17, 2011 at 6:02 AM

    You won't go back to daily's news.

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  4. LProfetaJuly 17, 2011 at 6:06 AM

    When reading Nabakov's sparkled craft, I lose my breathe, so I open my mouth and read on and on into the dawn.

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  5. LProfetaJuly 17, 2011 at 7:02 AM

    That kind of writing is thrilling to me and makes me hopeful of the possibilities inside mankind's sensitivities to understand each other with deepness and love.It wakens the possible that is.

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  6. LProfetaJuly 17, 2011 at 7:04 AM

    We have the possibility to communicate but it fades in non-use.

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  7. LProfetaJuly 18, 2011 at 3:41 AM

    Imagine this little reader found Nabokov, yes Nabokov, while having a walk in midtown crowds, hard to believe, no, he's very much recorded, I just did not know till I roamed the stacks.

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