Vladimir Nabokov. Un hombre ocupado : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. Un hombre ocupado
Vladimir Nabokov. A BUSY MAN
attacked or on fire, I leap out of bed, and, thinking (we are fools in sleep) that I live at street level, I dive out of the window— into an abyss. Second possibility: in a different nightmare I swallow my tongue—that's known to have happened—the fat thing performs a back somersault in my mouth and I suffocate. Case number three: I'm roaming, say, through noisy streets—aha, that's Pushkin trying to imagine his way of death:
In combat, wanderings or waves,
Or will it be the nearby valley... etc., but mark—he began with 'combat,' which means he did have a presentiment. Superstition may be masked wisdom. What can I do to stop thinking those thoughts? What can I do