Rudolf (Writings from an Unbound Europe)
global, to that you are proud to assign your self. subsequent time you unexpectedly notice that “the different kind” o f everyone is throughout you, you shouldflee from that spot as quickly as pos sible! simply because to fraternize skill leaving your patent-leather footwear within the church porch and going barefoot, into the unknown . . . and that's notfor you . . . My pricey guy! Paris! A sin to stroll round Paris like that, philosophizing and sneering, little and ofien! yet i've got lived there. and that i grew there, luxuriantly,.
. via this level innovations aren't options anymore, they're washed out and laundered with bleach for an outdated beggars ragbag . . . you know Olek, Yazit. No, you don't know Yazityet, but if we meet someday, I w in poor health inform you approximately him in addition. the previous day; earlier than I dropped off, i attempted to name to brain a bunch o f odds and ends Olek and that i bought as much as . . . not anything doing, fust as i f you, sir, had clipped Olek’s silhouette out o f a towel in a station urinal and instructed him to face up . . . You.
our lord god Himself’s needed to surrender attempting to stroke him. yet our Mam sees my agitation and appears at me with compassion. and primary Love trips on via fumes of incense, and through now you can’t even scent out the horse that used to be giv ing off an scent of bitter broth made up of forty-year-old bones. And all you could pay attention is middle-aged girls clicking rosaries in their personal tooth via their hands, and all you could listen is younger ladies boxing themselves lower than the breast with their little fists to.
. . ” “I can’t aid pondering what plants you’ll look on her doorstep with. simply because it’s very important.” “You’re right down to info already . . . however the topic nonetheless . . . i've got no inspiration . . . good . . . isn’t so very urgent, is it?” “It most definitely is urgent . . . I shall recommend you. on your position I’d carry carnations. White. You’ll be asking, doubtless, why white carnations. you recognize . . . our Mam was once and nonetheless is keen on the marriageability o f issues . . . you recognize . . . she introduced a.
support lessly . . . and there it's! past monuments, past storied stone vaults— a small, clean flowerbed at the point. And subsequent to it one other 106 with its wall of cement already around it. He’s taken off his hat. Wipes forehead and nape together with his handkerchief. and appears at this neighborhood clay, packed down right into a prism via the sexton’s spade. and appears on the fern that’s already had time to take. He attempts to botch jointly a few solemn aphorism, however the bricklayer’s shovel jars in his gray-haired head.