Me refrescó, como si siguiera existiendo esa respiración boca a boca, el beso de una musa no profesional...
Что поделать, литература живет за счет оторванной пуговицы или ржавого гвоздя от подковы, за счет бренности человека и тем самым за счет выветрившихся надгробий.
There is no Paul, the man’s name was Saul and a Saul he was, and it was Saul who told the people of Corinth something about some priceless sausages that he called faith, hope, and love, which he adver...
When today Oskar, lying or sitting in his hospital bed but in either case drumming, revisits Arsenal Passage and the Stockturm with the scribbles on its dungeon walls and its well-oiled instruments of...
Sie hält nicht, was sie verspricht. Weder ist die ihre eingeschriebene soziale Verpflichtung des Eigentums Wirklichkeit geworden, noch ist jeder Bürger vor dem Gesetz gleich. Als sich nach dem Zerfall...
Once upon a time there was a musician who slew his four cats, stuffed them in a garbage can, left the building, and went to visit friends.
LoveThat’s it:The cashless commerce.The blanket always too short.The loose connexion.To search behind the horizon.To brush fallen leaves with four shoesand in one’s mind to rub bare feet.To let and re...