Raven
@Raveneanias
Kendi halinde kendince kitaplarına âşık bir okurum sadece
Edmond Jabes'in dediği gibi: Umut belki de gelecek sayfadadır. Kapatma kitabı.
In libris libertas
James was still for a moment, then stood and left the table without another word. Alexander watched him go, gloomily. “And then there were four,” he said.
Bu yaz yanınızdan ayırmak istemeyeceğiniz kitapları sizin için bir araya getirdik.
💬 Siz olsanız bu listeden hangisiyle başlardınız?
He must have seen the fear in my face, because the hard lines around his eyes and mouth vanished, like someone had cut the right wire to defuse him before he went off. “Yes, of course he did.” He looked down, let go of my jacket, and brushed one hand across the front to smooth the wrinkles out. “I’m sorry, Oliver. Everything’s gone sideways.”
“Like some kind of pagan ritual?” James asked, turning his head so I could just see the side of his face, the curve of his cheek. “Good Lord, Oliver. Sleep with her if you must, but don’t let her get inside your head.”
As I watched the wood blacken and crumble and collapse, my lungs constricted, refused to take in sufficient air. How swiftly, how suddenly everything had gone wrong. Where did it even begin? Not with Meredith and me, I told myself, but months earlier—with Caesar? Macbeth? It was impossible to identify Point Zero. I squirmed, unable to dismiss the idea that some huge invisible weight was crushing down on me like a boulder. (It was that ponderous crouching demon Guilt. At the time I didn’t know him, but in the months to come he would climb onto my chest every night and sit snarling there, an ugly Fuselian nightmare.) The fire burned down to embers and its light slowly left the room, leaking out through the cracks. Lacking oxygen, light-headed, I tilted back toward unconsciousness, and it was more like suffocating than falling asleep.
“It feels like Judgment Day.” Alexander threw back an enormous gulp of brandy, gritted his teeth as he swallowed, and reached for the bottle again. He filled his glass almost to the brim and stood clutching it tightly. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. “If someone decides they don’t want to crash in the living room, well, we all know I’m not picky about who I sleep with. Goodnight.”