Vladimir Nabokov. Un hombre ocupado
Vladimir Nabokov. A BUSY MAN
So here he is—a thirty-two-year-old, smallish, but broad-shouldered man, with protruding transparent ears, half-actor, half-literatus, author of topical jingles in the emigre papers over a not very witty pen name (unpleasantly reminding one of the "Caran d'Ache" adopted by an immortal cartoonist). Here he is. His face consists of horn-framed dark glasses, with a blindman's glint in them, and of a soft-tufted wart on the left cheek. His head is balding and through the straight strands of brushed-back dunnish hair one discerns the pale-pink chamois of his scalp.
What had he been thinking about just now? What was the recollection under