working and sewing, trips back home, London in sunshine, woodland walks, mint blazers, turquoise jewels, french tips..
Spring in Fialta - Vladimir Nabokov
a few pretty words and sentences underlined..
"picture postcards, amethyst rock + the mantelpiece dreams..
on such a day in the early thirties I found myself.
coral, slate-blue sidewalk
violaceous syllables, most rumpled of flowers.
flutters and effluvia of that gray day, vernal essence
almond trees beyond the chapel
pulse of the distant sea
lassoing, velvety, fawn, ephemeral, amity, interlacing.
thrones.
with more mouth than meaning. pale lip.
Russian fairytales, vignettes + white wilderness.
book of our two lives.
outside, milky dull. Tartar memories, drifted from the bare windows of the pale houses, bloomed listlessly, her sleeves trailing to..
an ashtray, stood aslant on the couch near one of her heels.
some parisian drama, plush wall.
remains of breakfast, honey stained knife..
sudden draft of muslin embroidered with white dahlias, french window, diminutive cast-iron balcony beyond to inhale dry maple leaves and gasoline.
Poisonous pun, veiled eyes, motionless pharoahlike face, childish celerity.
Dapper doll-like rosy Segur, a lover of art and a perfect fool."
