"Men Like My Father Cannot Die"

“I see again my schoolroom in Vyra, the blue roses of the wallpaper, the open window. Its reflection fills the oval mirror above the leathern couch where my uncle sits, gloating over a tattered book. A sense of security, of well-being, of summer warmth pervades my memory. That robust reality makes a ghost of the present. The mirror brims with brightness; a bumblebee has entered the room and bumps against the ceiling. Everything is as it should be, nothing will ever change, nobody will ever die.”

Speak. Memory ~ Nabokov

Posted by ahem at June 17, 2017 11:32 AM

This reminds me that American women used to be worthy of respect

Posted by bgarrett at June 17, 2017 2:44 PM

Happy Fathers Day, Gerard.

Posted by Jewel at June 18, 2017 3:39 AM

There are some things compelling about the truth. Do you know one?

Posted by Howard Nelson at June 22, 2017 8:02 PM

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