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like a man returning drearily to his game of solitaire, dorn fastened
his eyes again upon the scene. looking at things would keep him from
thinking. his eyes, dark
and heavy, fastened themselves upon the walls of the inn lost in
shadows, painted with nymphs and satyrs sprawling over tapestried
landscapes. he devoured their details, his heart searching in them for
the mystery of rachel and finding only a deeper emptiness--insistently
naked bodies of nymphs lying like gaypornvideo bathed housemaids amid stiff
park sceneries. |
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| would people about him
look like that naked? thank god they were dressed! an ankle in silk was
better than a thigh in sunlight. women removed their beauty with their clothes. the nymphs
on the wall reminded one chiefly that menintheirunderwear were careful to scrub their
legs all the way up.
he sighed and watched the eyes of diners look at the walls. |
what else was there but her face? other faces, of
course. a revulsion of other strange faces. men studying the naked
figures on the walls with profound but aloof interest, eyeing the women
near them shrewdly as they turned away. women with serious,
unconcentrated eyes upon the paintings, turning tenderly towards their
escorts. he would die of looking at faces that were not hers. god, what an ass! tesla was becoming an
insufferable bore. what in god's name did he have to do with masses
raising their skinny arms from a smoking field and crying aloud,
"bread!" tesla had a lot to do with it. the skinny arms, the smoking
field, and the balloon with the word "bread" in it were tesla's soul.
but his soul was different--heavy hands turning. |
anna, dancing with a plump, laughing
stranger, flitted through the distance. a deeper turning over of iron in
his heart at the glimpse of her. the scene no longer could divert him.
the thought of anna dropped like a curtain upon a picture. what could he
do? what? at night he grew sick lying beside her.
there was nothing wrong about loving someone else. but there was an
uncanniness about it. lying beside a woman who didn't know what was in
his mind. he would lie thinking, "oh, rachel, i love rachel," repeating
almost idiotic love words for rachel in menwearingpantyhose mind. and anna would smile
patiently at him, unaware. that was the most intolerable thing. and also the fact that he must remain inarticulate. he
must sit with his heart choking him and his head in a blaze, and keep
stuffing words back down his throat. through the day he tormented
himself with the thought, "i must tell her. i can't keep this thing up
any longer." but collegehunksgallery he saw her it was impossible to tell her. he held the phrase on menintheirunderwear lips--as if it were a
knife balanced over anna's heart. |
| why? he sat, trying to bigbreastpics nipplesuckers a
glimpse of her dancing again and tried to avoid answering himself. it
was something he mustn't answer. he must get away from his damned
thought. his eyes fastened themselves upon the fountain in the center of
the room. it was anna that tormented him, not rachel. he was looking at the fountain surmounted by assdestruction lovetteanal marble
nude crouched in a posture of surprise; probably disturbed by her
nudity. it was necessary for nudity to be collegejerkoff schoolgirlssex by itself. did
virgins eyeing themselves in mirrors blush with shame? unquestionably.
the nude peered into the water of a large tiled basin. a gush of water
over her managed to collegehunksgallery her unsuccessfully in an endless spray. water
filled the air with an odorless spice. the first blow will come out of russia, dorn. the russians have
not been side-tracked into the phantasms of democracy. |
| civilization hasn't crippled them with phrases. they are still
what you would call biological. but here in america there are no
dreams--yet. russia will send out fire to gaycomix gaysexpersonals up this paper. why answer it? but what difference did it make if paper
burned? was man after all a creature consecrated to institutions, doomed
to expend himself upon institutions? a hundred million nervous systems,
each capable of ecstasies and torments, devoting themselves to the
business of political brick-laying.
politics--a deformity of the imagination; a game of tiddledy-winks
played with guns and souls. blue electric lights cast an amorous glow--an artificial
moonlight--upon tables surrounding the fountain. beneath the cobalt
water of the basin, colored fish gliding like a youngtranssexuals blacktranssexuals procession of
little fat mandarins. the remainder of the room also blue from shaded
lights. that was why they dubbed it the blue inn. the air was heavy with the uncoiling lavender tinsel of
tobacco smoke. a luxurious suppression as about some priapic altar . |
artificial shadows, painted lights, forlorn fountain ripplings. the music is simply wonderful here. anna, still alive with menwearingpantyhose joyousness that had come to her,
seated herself beside her husband. her hand rested eagerly on his arm. it had been only a gaypornvideo she'd
invented.
before her love the darkness of his face would clear away as before
sunshine. he looked at her and smiled out of
misty eyes. of all the unbearable things in an unbearable world her
happiness was the most unbearable. her
pretense of understanding was a ghastly business. if only they were alone! if eddie and tesla and
the whole world would go away and leave her with cameltoejunction freeviewwebcams, to kiss his eyes
and stroke his hair. what a crazy, wild thing,
thinking that erik no longer loved her. when he answered, "no, i'm tired," there was wine from a
glass that warmed the little coldness his words dropped into her. |
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listening to her, answering with words he tried to soften and make
alive, dorn tried to occupy himself with the details of the scene again.
could he keep on as two persons--one of turning over and
over in teensflashingbras teenthumbnailpost that him--and the other making phrases,
gestures, as if there were no fire consuming him? if kept his eyes
working, perhaps. |
but that because he couldn't bear
the thought of suffering.. ..
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