Vladimir Nabokov. Primavera en Fialta : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. Primavera en Fialta
Vladimir Nabokov. SPRING IN FIALTA
talking about; even if the moist, gray, greenhouse essence of Fialta might be called "weather," it was just as much outside of anything that could serve us as a topic of conversation as was, for instance, Nina's slender elbow, which I was holding between linger and thumb, or a bit of tinfoil someone had dropped, shining in the middle of the cobbled street in the distance.
We four moved on, vague purchases still looming ahead. "God, what an Indian!" Ferdinand suddenly exclaimed with fierce relish, violently nudging me and pointing at a poster. Farther on, near a fountain, he gave his stick of candy to a native child, a swarthy girl with heads round her pretty neck