Queer
William S. BurroughsEn Eski Queer Gönderileri
En Eski Queer kitaplarını, en eski Queer sözleri ve alıntılarını, en eski Queer yazarlarını, en eski Queer yorumları ve incelemelerini 1000Kitap'ta bulabilirsiniz.The slow drip of Moor’s hate had etched the lines of decay in his face. He had aged without experience of life, like a piece of meat rotting on a pantry shelf.
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There was neither past nor future in Lola’s. The place was a waiting room, where certain people checked in at certain times.
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An imaginary hand projected with such force it seemed Allerton must feel the touch of ectoplasmic fingers caressing his ear, phantom thumbs smoothing his eyebrows, pushing the hair back from his face. Now Lee’s hands were running down over the ribs, the stomach. Lee felt the aching pain of desire in his lungs.
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In the dark theater Lee could feel his body pull towards Allerton, an amoeboid protoplasmic projection, straining with a blind worm hunger to enter the other’s body, to breathe with his lungs, see with his eyes, learn the feel of his viscera and genitals. Allerton shied in his seat. Lee felt a sharp twinge, a strain or dislocation of the spirit.
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It was a wise old queen — Bobo, we called her — who taught me that I had a duty to live and to bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love.
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‘No one is ever really alone. You are part of everything alive.’
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