He knew that when he kissed this girl, and forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath, his mind would never romp again like the mind of God. So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star. Then he kissed her. At his lips' touch she blossomed for him like a flower and the incarnation was complete.
På natten förstår jag faktiskt inte varför jag ville vara hans tusensköna.
2 kommentarer:
Älskar det här stycket. Fitzgerald fick till det här alltså. /mia
Det gjorde han verkligen. Hur fint som helst men samtidigt lite sorgligt.
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