Vladimir Nabokov. Un jirón de vida
Vladimir Nabokov. A SLICE OF LIFE
When we entered the pub, Pavel Romanovich sat leaning on his elbow at a table next to the bar; he rubbed with his minimus his red naked eyes, while imparting at length, in monotone, some "slice of life," as he liked to put it, to a total stranger seated at the same table, a German, enormously tall, with sleekly parted hair but a black-downed nape and badly bitten fingernails. "However," Pavel Romanovich was saying i