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“diferenta dintre fata care citeste si fata care scrie “

“Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.”

“Buna,

Atasata lista updatata.
Multumesc.

Seara buna,

Cristina”

“tirfele face ce vrea, sa-mi scuzati gramatica”

eh, ma rog, m-am jucat nitel de-a citatele ca un pretext,  asa, un indemn la text. Ii apartine unui domnisor pe nume charles warnke, un blogger emotionat indie, vorba ta, am incheiat si ghilimelele astea. Pasajul de mai sus e cred ca unul din cele mai frumoase ‘imi pare rau’ zise de el, ei, frumoasei lui, si desteptei lui.  si f frumos, merita citit tot, mi sa parut in pasajul asta la fel de heartcore ca sfirsitul solilocviului (monolog, nene) lui molly din ullysse, sa verific daca l-am scris corect.

ps:  warnke are 21 de ani, deci poate n-a trait el toate alea, dar le-a zis bine

 

 

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3 thoughts on ““diferenta dintre fata care citeste si fata care scrie “

  1. sa dai si tu acel acel solilocviu ca sa il termin de citit pentru ca in acea zi dar ce zi cu soare incalzind albul camerei a fost nu am reusit sa ma concentrez desi mi’a placut mult cum se juca cu oameni si situatii, dar mai ales cum (re)traia prin acestea

  2. ambrablu says:

    “I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes. “

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