“I see again my schoolroom in Vyra, the blue roses of the wallpaper, the open window. Its reflection fills the oval mirror above the leathern couch where my uncle sits, gloating over a tattered book. A sense of security, of well-being, of summer warmth pervades my memory. That robust reality makes a ghost of the present. The mirror brims with brightness; a bumblebee has entered the room and bumps against the ceiling. Everything is as it should be, nothing will ever change, nobody will ever die.”
Speak. Memory ~ Nabokov
Posted by ahem at June 17, 2017 11:32 AMThis reminds me that American women used to be worthy of respect
Posted by bgarrett at June 17, 2017 2:44 PMHappy Fathers Day, Gerard.
Posted by Jewel at June 18, 2017 3:39 AMThere are some things compelling about the truth. Do you know one?
Posted by Howard Nelson at June 22, 2017 8:02 PMPost a comment
"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged