"Together we made an angel
It looked like something being destroyed in a blizzard
I haven't killed a thing since"
e-kitap olarak okuyorum.
"Vücuduna bak. Sevgisizlik ve güvensizlikten acı içinde."
Luc Besson | Angel-A, (2005)
Don't expect us to believe that this angel is a terrorist.
#getoutofrafah
Maalesef Öyle.
"Vücuduna bak. Sevgisizlik ve güvensizlikten acı içinde."
Luc Besson | Angel-A, (2005)
Fleetingly, I saw A. as the young man in Pasolini’s Teorema, a kind of angel of revelation.
İt is hard to live a perfect life, but dont forget you 're angel........
Tess'i Tess olduğu için seviyordu o; sütçülükteki ustalığı, öğrettiklerini kavramaktaki çabukluğu, ya da biçimsel dindarlığı için değil. Bu toy, arı, katışıksız açık hava yaratığının, kendini Angel'a beğendirmek için toplumsal kurallara bağlılık cilâsını sürünmesine ihtiyacı yoktu.
Sayfa 210 - Amaç Temel Yayınları, 1987. Çeviri:Suna GülerKitabı okudu
Angel'a göre Felix salt kilise adamıydı, Cuthebert ise salt kolej adamı. Her ikisi de, uygar toplumda «önemsiz sayıda» toplum dışı insan bulunduğunu içtenlikle kabul ediyorlardı. Bu milyonlarca toplum dışı insan ne bilim adamıydı, ne de din adamı. Gene de bunlar; her ne kadar toplumdan sayılmamalı, saygı görmemeliyse de, hoşgörüyle karşılanmalıydı.
Sayfa 203 - Amaç Temel Yayınları, 1987. Çeviri:Suna GülerKitabı okudu
Barnabas İncili’nin akibeti nereye varacak?
Barnabas İncili’nin akibeti nereye varacak?
1983 Kışında, Şırnak'ın Uludere kazasına bağlı "Kela Memo" mevkiinde av köpekleriyle avlanmaya çıkan Timurhan Ağa ve adamları bir ara köpeklerini kaybederler. Köpeklerinin yeraltı gibi bir yerden seslerini işitirler. Mağara gibi bir yerden girdiklerinde aşağıya doğru yol olduğunu
The desert creeps in on a man's land. Not a fellah, but he does own some land. Did own. From a boy, he has repaired the wall, mortared, carried stone heavy as he, lifted, set in place. Still the desert comes. Is the wall a traitor, letting it in? Is the boy possessed by a djinn who makes his hands do the work wrong? Is the desert's attack too powerful for any boy, or wall, or dead father and mother?
No. The desert moves in. It happens, nothing else. No djinn in the boy, no treachery in the wall, no hostility in the desert. Nothing.
Soon, nothing. Soon only the desert. The two goats must choke on sand, nuzzling down to find the white clover. He, never to taste their soured milk again. The melons die beneath the sand. Never more can you give comfort in the summer, cool abdelawi, shaped like the Angel's trumpet! The maize dies and there is no bread. The wife, the children grow sick and short-tempered. The man, he, runs one night out to where the wall was, begins to lift and toss imaginary rocks about, curses Allah, then begs forgiveness from the Prophet, then urinates on the desert, hoping to insult what cannot be insulted.
They find him in the morning a mile from the the house, skin blued, shivering in a sleep which is almost death, tears turned to frost on the sand.
And now the house begins to fill with desert, like the lower half of an hourglass which will never be inverted again.
What does a man do?
My girl fell for this man not once but twice
He was beautiful. Inhuman. A warrior angel with blue eyes and golden
hair and a face that made Evangeline think that writing poetry should be her
new hobby. He almost appeared to be glowing. It made her wonder if he
was right, if maybe she really was half dead and he was the angel taking her
to heaven.
If I Must Die
If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings
(make it white with a long tail).
So that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye,
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze —
and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself —.
Sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above,
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love.
If I must die
let it bring hope,
let it be a story.
Rıfat el-Arir
Walker unlocked the door and stepped inside the dark hallway, and I followed him.
“Get on your knees,” he suddenly said, in a silky voice.
“What?”
“Get on your fucking knees, angel.”
“Okay,” I whispered as I sank down to the floor.
“Good girl,” he said, running a hand down my cheek. “You’re going to open that perfect mouth and suck my dick until my cum is dripping down your face…and after you’ve taken the edge off…I’m going to fuck you. In my jersey. First in your pussy, and then in that perfect ass.”
I stared up at him, shock and arousal slipping through my bloodstream. My panties were drenched.
I wanted that.
I wanted all of that.
Now.
“Open up,” he growled as he pulled his dick out of his Knights sweatpants. “Wider.”
He made a pleased sound of approval when I obeyed.
Olivia-Walker.Kitabı okudu
He looked part angel, part fallen star, and completely devastating.
