Vladimir Nabokov. Primer amor
Vladimir Nabokov. FIRST LOVE
I did not care for that knife business, and anyway the manner of separation remained very vague; but I distinctly imagined the sudden melting away of my shackles and the feeling of lightness and nakedness that would ensue. I imagined myself climbing over the fence—a fence with bleached skulls of farm animals that crowned its pickets—and descending toward the beach. I saw myself leaping from boulder to boul der and diving into the twinkling sea, and scrambling back onto the shore and scampering about with other naked children. I dreamt ot this at night—saw myself fleeing from my grandfather and carrying away with me a toy, or a kitten, or a little crab pressed to my left