Vladimir Nabokov. Música
Vladimir Nabokov. MUSIC
To Victor any music he did not know—and all he knew was a dozen conventional tunes—could be likened to the patter of a conversation in a strange tongue: in vain you strive to define at least the limits of the words, but everything slips and merges, so that the laggard ear begins to feel boredom. Victor tried to concentrate on listening, but soon caught himself watching WolPs hands and their spectral reflections. When the sounds grew into insiste