Vladimir Nabokov. Batir de alas
"What shall I do now? He'll come after me for revenge.... Oh, my God...." ccMy dear friend," Kern wrote quickly, ashe sought unforgettable caresses and now she will give birth to a winged little beast...." Oh, damn! He crumpled the sheet. , "Try to get some sleep," he addressed Isabel over his shoulder, "and leave tomorrow. For a monastery."
Her shoulders shook rapidly. Then she grew still.
Kern wrote. Before him smiled the eyes of the one person in the world with whom he could freely speak or remain silent. He wrote to that person that life was fini