And there was light as the resonance of his voice, the accent clouded by too many cigarettes or perhaps hidden images, he could grasp beyond that impression Forms that their color had marked his voice, he perceived that their presence as a distant echo.
Later, he understands, "It was the light that penetrated his voice, the light of the house above the sea suspended, it was this silence which empties into the sea
Once he succeeds, the house bathed in sunlight, the image of L. , the voice of L. and its warm color and as yet broken, the shards of memory wounded in his throat. Light blond hair weeps L., in his fingers he still feel the fragility of her hair in the house above the sea, as a reflection blonde vanished over time which again sparkles. Light crying eyes of L. spread over the sea was afraid before, the eyes of L., he did not understand that color that poured all over her face, her almost slanted eyes, he knew they were not yet restrained, unable to get rid of this impression,-the blue eyes of L., he has now because of the sea motionless at his feet, light sea
L. had spoken of the house far suspended, and the sea, and E. playing all day at the piano, absorbed somehow by the piano, the captured light on the keys, she had this image of E., his fingers were spread again and again and were based in sea
He came, E. listening, it still plays in the house above the sea, and her blond hair who devour the light, and his fingers can no longer stop the music, she runs the music under the fingers of E., a warm and as yet broken, it now includes just the voice of L. is the voice of L. who sings under the fingers of E., hair blond E.. who plays for him, perhaps long she waited for him to play, she waited for him to come to the house far suspended, even though she knows that he has finally come for L. disappeared, only to find L, the voice of L. in the light under the fingers of E. Light crying in the fingers of E. She has waited so long for another, the desire for another, it will never be another desire for E. that of L., the memory of L. E.. door again.
He longed L. and his voice invaded by memories he could not see, he wanted to see, and what-not that she discerns in the loose hair of E.. in which pierces the melody as if sea suddenly discharged him so violent and the sea too blue eyes of L. that look so terrible that no one has ever seen, the voice of him who has never worn trail.
0 comments:
Post a Comment