Вика Науменко

Someone could have come along and eased the boy’s terror, but nobody did ... because nobody does. (c)S. King "Misery" Говорит планета Земля.Агент белый.Прием.Сегодня я хранил мир на земле.Прием.Это очень мирная планета.Конец связи.(с) белый(Железобетон) “Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.” ― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas When I realize that she is gone, perhaps gone forever, a great void opens up and I feel that I am falling, falling, falling into deep, black space. And this is worse than tears, deeper than regret or pain or sorrow, it is the abyss into which Satan was plunged. There is no climbing back, no ray of light, no sound of human voice or human touch of hand. How many thousand times, In walking through the streets at night, have I wondered if the day would ever come again when she would be at my side: all those yearning looks I bestowed on the buildings and statues, I had looked at them so hungrily, so desperately, that by now my thoughts must have become a part of very buildings and statues, they must be saturated with my anguish. I could not help but reflect also that when we had walked side by side through these mournful, dingy streets now so saturated with my dream and longing, she had observed nothing, felt nothing: they were like any other streets to her, a little more sordid perhaps, and that is all. I had become reconciled to this life without her, and yet if I thought about her only for minute it was enough to pierce the bone and marrow of my contentment and shove me back again into the agonizing gutter of my wretched past. Henry Miller. "Tropic of Cancer"