Vladimir Nabokov. El ayudante de dirección : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. El ayudante de dirección
Vladimir Nabokov. THE ASSISTANT PRODUCER
ne evening, after a particularly abominable day, I sank down on a stone bench weeping and cursing a mock world where millions of lives were being juggled by the clammy hands of consuls and commissaires. I noticed she was crying too, and then I told her that nothing would really have mattered the way it mattered now, had she not gone and done what she did.
"You will think me crazy," she said with a vehemence that, for a second, almost made a real person of her, "but I didn't—I swear that I didn't. Perhaps I live several lives at once. Perhaps I wanted to test you. Perhaps this bench is a dream and we are in Saratov or on some star."
It would be tedious to niggle th