en
Patti Smith

M Train

Avisarme cuando se agregue el libro
Para leer este libro carga un archivo EPUB o FB2 en Bookmate. ¿Cómo puedo cargar un libro?
    mgacufapjwrwpryvgqcompartió una citahace 10 meses
    High winds, cold rain, or the threat of rain; a looming continuum of calamitous skies that subtly permeate my entire being. Without noticing, I slip into a light yet lingering malaise. Not a depression, more like a fascination for melancholia, which I turn in my hand as if it were a small planet, streaked in shadow, impossibly blue.
    Katya Kovalyovacompartió una citahace 2 años
    It’s not so easy writing about nothing.
    Marieke van Damcompartió una citahace 3 años
    There were books lining the walls and halls, books that I knew and books I wished to know.
    Marieke van Damcompartió una citahace 3 años
    All I needed for the mind was to be led to new stations.
    Marieke van Damcompartió una citahace 3 años
    Feeling a surge of investigative energy
    Tetiana Donskacompartió una citahace 3 años
    Though often amused by my quixotic notions, Fred did not make light of this ­self-­imposed task.
    Tetiana Donskacompartió una citahace 3 años
    Saint-­Laurent-­du-­Maroni
    Vlada Lodeskcompartió una citahace 3 años
    told me where I was standing and which way was west but not where I was going and nothing of my worth.
    Vlada Lodeskcompartió una citahace 3 años
    My breath materialized before me and I buttoned my coat.
    Marieke van Damcompartió una citahace 4 años
    I scoured the niches of former joys, halting at a moment of secret exaltation. Though it would take some time, I knew just how to do it. First I would close my eyes and concentrate on the hands of a ten-year-old girl fingering a skate key on a cherished lace from the shoe of a twelve-year-old boy. Think happy thoughts. I would simply roller skate through the portal.
    Marieke van Damcompartió una citahace 4 años
    He also told me that seeing one’s own hands within a dream was exceedingly rare.
    Marieke van Damcompartió una citahace 4 años
    You have misplaced joy, he said without hesitation. Without joy, we are as dead.
    —How do I find it again?
    —Find those who have it and bathe in their perfection.
    Chernikova Mariacompartió una citahace 4 años
    I had a black coat. A poet gave it to me some years ago on my ­fifty-­seventh birthday. It had been ­his—an ­ill-­fitting, unlined Comme des Garçons overcoat that I secretly coveted. On the morning of my birthday he told me he had no gift for me.
    —I don’t need a gift, I said.
    —But I want to give you something, whatever you wish for.
    —Then I would like your black coat, I said.
    And he smiled and gave it to me without hesitation or regret. Every time I put it on I felt like myself. The moths liked it as well and it was riddled with small holes along the hem, but I ­didn’t mind. The pockets had come unstitched at the seam and I lost everything I absentmindedly slipped into their holy caves. Every morning I got up, put on my coat and watch cap, grabbed my pen and notebook, and headed across Sixth Avenue to my café. I loved my coat and the café and my morning routine. It was the clearest and simplest expression of my solitary identity. But in this current run of harsh weather, I favored another coat to keep me warm and protect me from the wind. My black coat, more suitable for spring and fall, fell from my consciousness, and in this relatively short span it disappeared.
    Khalimat Khalia Tekeevacompartió una citahace 4 años
    I wrote about a traveler who ­didn’t travel.
    Marieke van Damcompartió una citahace 4 años
    I slip into a light yet lingering malaise. Not a depression, more like a fascination for melancholia, which I turn in my hand as if it were a small planet, streaked in shadow, impossibly blue.
    Khalimat Khalia Tekeevacompartió una citahace 4 años
    rode sturdy Icelandic ponies. His was white and mine was black, like two knights on a chessboard.
    Khalimat Khalia Tekeevacompartió una citahace 4 años
    Not a depression, more like a fascination for melancholia, which I turn in my hand as if it were a small planet, streaked in shadow, impossibly blue.
fb2epub
Arrastra y suelta tus archivos (no más de 5 por vez)