“How do you know my size?” I said, holding up a long blue plaid skirt to my waist in front of the mirror. “And my style...this is cute…”
“I’ve been observing you for months,” he said, lacing up his boots. “How could I not know those things?”
Rae-Leon.Kitabı okudu
“You’re fucking filthy,” he whispered, parting from me just enough to speak. I smiled — tear-stained face, cum down my chin, mascara running.
“Make me filthier.”
He spit on my lips, and as he watched me lick it off, I thought he might truly lose control. The viciousness in his eyes, the hunger there, was nothing short of terrifying. Terrifying, and yet I’d never wanted someone so badly. Every nerve in my body was on fire, sensitive to the touch. I held back a shriek as he lifted me from the floor and threw me back on the bed, where I landed on the sleek sheets and soft pillows. I scrambled, another useless attempt to struggle, but he pinned me down on my back and yanked down my skirt.
Rae-Leon.Kitabı okudu
When an individual suddenly turns his toes inward or interlocks his feet, it is a sign that he is insecure, anxious, and/or feels threatened. When interviewing suspects in crimes, I often notice that they interlock their feet and ankles when they are under stress. A lot of people, especially women, have been taught to sit this way, especially when wearing a skirt (…). However, to lock the ankles in this way, especially over a prolonged period, is unnatural and should be considered suspect, particularly when done by males.
Zihnim bir mezarlık, kelimelerim nefes alamayan birer ceset yığını.Burası konuşamayanların son durağı...şıtt... sessizlik
daha bir kıza doğru dürüst dokunamamış gençler kanla kaplı gömlekleriyle caka satıyor
Where’d you come from?”
“Fairfield,” I say. It’s harder for me to skirt those same edges. I squeeze my eye shut and I see her and I open it again. I swallow. “Fairfield …”
“Fairfield’s overrun. That whole area is crawling with ’em.”
“I know. That’s how I ended up in the river.”
“Well, you’re a lucky son of a bitch then. You’re pretty far from where you started.”
I remember kissing her in the school, knew as soon as I did it that she had kissed maybe no one in her life, no matter what she said during that stupid game of I Never and it felt good to figure something out about her on my own. I want to tell her how good and alive she felt, how good and warm and alive she is. I want everything I say to be enough. It was so much easier in the school. All of it, even the worst parts. Maybe because I still felt an old life ghosting me there. I could pretend. Even with Baxter, even with Grace dying, I could always smoke in the gym because that was my thing, before. I got to be that guy, I got to be the guy with his hand up Sloane’s skirt. And there was so much time in the school, time to weigh words, turn them into things like I’m here because they’re not, so I have to make it mean something.
“Write me a story where there is no ending, Kitt. Write to me and fill my empty spaces.”
For Jane: With All the Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough
I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,
and I call God a liar,
"Now you're able to think of a few things other than what's under a girl's skirt, aren't you?"
"Teenage boys are uncouth and selfish. And all they can think about is getting their hand up a girl's skirt."
Trainees in the Korean idol industry. But not just any trainees: ones who poured their trainee lives into hip-hop form and turned their debut album into a record of their experiences. From the beginning, BTS’s music reflected the lives of the members. The B-side tracks in 2 COOL 4 SKOOL, “Intro,” “Interlude,” “Outro,” and “Skit,” became a template on which later albums would be formatted. It was a time when only the tiniest minority knew of the Bulletproof Boy Scouts. But BTS were already forging their own identity, one they hold on to today.
Chapter 2: And the EdgeKitabı okuyor
To a Passer-By
The street about me roared with a deafening sound.
Tall, slender, in heavy mourning, majestic grief,
A woman passed, with a glittering hand
Raising, swinging the hem and flounces of her skirt;
Agile and graceful, her leg was like a statue's.
Tense as in a delirium, I drank
From her eyes, pale sky where tempests germinate,
The sweetness that enthralls and the pleasure that kills.
A lightning flash... then night! Fleeting beauty
By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,
Will I see you no more before eternity?
Elsewhere, far, far from here! too late! never perhaps!
For I know not where you fled, you know not where I go,
O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!
Ve gördüğümüz gibi, çimentodan dev bir kare olan bu kentte ve kapalı bir arenaya dönen bu daracık ülkede durmadan halkalar, alevden çemberler çiziyor: İçi boş savlarının, nefretlerinin, körlüklerinin içine, yıkık duvarların arasına hapsolmuş gibi kapanıyorlar. Birbirlerine sadece top ve makineli tüfek atışlarıyla, bıçak veya ustura darbeleriyle hitap ediyorlar. Sonunda onları çürümenin ileri bir aşamasında içine alan deniz ise, savaşanları hiçlikte barıştırıyor.
Sayfa 95 - Lemis YayınKitabı okudu