vors m●ust walk about the streets of ▓their native city after an earthquake, ama▓zed to find how much that had been familiar was ●changed.I felt in some curious ▓way deafened and remember nothi●ng more except that much later● I ran into Pursewarden and Pombal in a ba●r, and that the

former recited some● lines from the old poet’s famous ‘The City▓’ which struck me with a new force — as if ●the poetry had been newly minted: th▓ough I knew them we

ll.And when Pombal said: ●‘You are abstracted this evening.What● is the matter’ I felt like answering him▓ in the words of the dying Am▓r:* ‘I feel as if heaven lay close upon the▓ earth and I between them both, breathing● through the eye of a needle.’

Justine ▓(1957) Part II Chapter 1 To have written so▓

From my blog

In the beginning

hat he is in need of a▓ new evaluation.There was much that I ●did not understand then, much that I have since● learned.I remember chiefly those ●interminable evenings spe

nt at the Café Al Akta●r.playing backgammon while he smoked h▓is favourite Lakadif in a pipe wi●th a long stem.If Mnemjian is the archiv●es of the City, Balthazar is i

At Day's End

ween its Gods and its men.● It sounds far-fetched, I know.▓ I see a tall man in a black ▓hat with a narrow brim.Pomb▓al christened him ‘the botanical goat’.He● is thin, stoops slightly, and has a deep

croak●ing voice of great beauty, particularly w●hen he quotes or recites.In sp●eaking to you he never looks at you directly▓ — a trait which I have notice●d in many homosexuals.But in him this does no▓t signify inversion, of which he is not only▓ not ashamed, but to which he●

Another Post

at-eyes are those of a hypnotist.I●n not looking at you he is sparin▓g you from a regard so pitiless t▓hat it would discountenance you for a▓n evening.It is a mystery how ●he can have, suspended from his

trun●k, hands of such monstrous ug▓liness.I would long since have cut them off and▓ thrown them into the sea.Under hi●s chin he has one dark spur of hai▓r growing, such as one somet▓imes sees upon