Sexta-feira, 2 de Fevereiro de 2007

what love really is.

(...)

During the month that he had known her the nature of his desire for her had changed . At the beginning there had been little true sensuality in it . Their first love-making had been simply an act of the will .  But after the second time it was different . The smell of her hair , the taste of her mouth , the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him , or into the air all round him . She had become a physical necessity , something that he not only wanted but felt that he had the right to.

(...)

It struck him that when one lived with a woman this particular disappointment must be a normal, recurring event ; and a deep tenderness, such as he had not felt for her before, suddenly took hold of him. He wished that they were a  married couple of ten years' standing. He wished that he were walking through the streets with her just as they were doing now, but openly and without fear, talking of trivialities and buying odds and ends for the household. He wished above all that they had some place where they could be alone together without feeling the obligation to make love every time they met.

(...)

publicado por marina às 23:09
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Segunda-feira, 29 de Janeiro de 2007

Tempo roubado

"What mattered was that the room over the junk-shop should exist. To know that it was there, inviolate, was almost the same as being in it. The room was a world, a pocket of the past where extinct animals could walk."

[...]

"Both of them knew - in a way, it was never out of their minds - that what was now happening could not last long. There were times when the fact of impending death seemed as palpable as the bed they lay on, and they would cling together with a sort of despairing sensuality, like a damned soul grasping at his last morsel of pleasure when the clock is within five minutes of striking."

George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four


publicado por joana às 00:57
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