Vladimir Nabokov. Batir de alas
Back in his room, Kern changed and, at the sound of the gong's hollow clanging, rang and ordered cold roast beef, some grapes, and a ll.isk of Chianti.
He had a nagging ache in his shoulders and thighs.
Had no business chasing after her, he thought. A man sticks a pair of boards on his feet and proceeds to savor the law of gravity. Ridiculous.
Around four he went down to the spacious reading room, where the mouth of the fireplace exhaled orange heat and invi