jueves, 18 de febrero de 2016

Fragment Elena Ferrante from The story of the lost child I

And the he laughed, got up from the chair, said obscurely that in his view love ended only when it was possible to return to oneself without fear or disgust, and left the room with shuffling steps, as if he wanted to reassure himself of the materiality of the floor.


I'm taking - I said, adapting Franco's words - what is indispensable to me now, and as soon as I've consumed his face, his words, every desire, I'll send him away.

Elena Ferrante

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