Nov 21, 2009
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He lies on top of her, sweating, taking great breaths, watching her face turned 3/4 away, not even a profile, but the terrible Face That Is No Face, gone too abstract, unreachable: the notch of eye socket, but never the labile eye, only the anonymous curve of cheek, convexity of mouth, a noseless mask of the Other Order of Being, of Katje’s being—the lifeless nonface that is the only face of hers he really knows, or will ever remember. “Hey, Katje,” ‘s all he sez.
t.p.
Nov 11, 2009
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please do not
Oct 29, 2009
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magnificent! magnificent.
Oct 14, 2009
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Oct 14, 2009
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d.s.w.
Oct 14, 2009
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отец и тётя
Oct 14, 2009
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Oct 14, 2009
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w. whitman & ?. doyle
Oct 14, 2009
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Oct 14, 2009
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j. agee
Oct 14, 2009
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w. von braun
Oct 14, 2009
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Oct 14, 2009
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Oct 14, 2009
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Jun 23, 2009
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It seems to me there is quite as considerable value (to say nothing of joy) in the attempt to see or to convey even some single thing as nearly as possible as that thing is.
