Vladimir Nabokov. Labios contra labios
Vladimir Nabokov. LIPS TO LIPS
He acquainted himself. In one of the Russian bookshops of exile he was handed a plump pink volume. He bought it, thinking aloud, as it were: "Young venture. Must be encouraged."
"Finished, the young venture," said the bookseller. "One number was all that came out."
"You are not in touch," rejoined Ilya Borisovich with a smile. "I definitively know that the next number will be out in autumn."
Upon coming home, he took an ivory paperknife and neatly cut the magazine's pages. Therein he found an unintelligible piece of prose by Galatov, two or three short stor