In Dark Light. Страница 7
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@darkbrokenmirror
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In Dark Light
by artbytheo 
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In Dark Light
by Jakub Rozalski 
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In Dark Light
by Hellstern 
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In Dark Light
When the raga ended there was a silence. I said, shall I turn it? but he said, no. He was in the shadow, I couldn’t see him very well. Suddenly he said, Would you like to come to bed? I said, no I wouldn’t. He caught me by surprise and I sounded foolish. Frightened. He said, his eyes still on me, ten years ago I would have married you. You would have been my second disastrous marriage. It wasn’t really a surprise. It had been waiting for weeks. He came and stood by me. You’re sure? I said, I haven’t come here for that. At all. It seemed so unlike him. So crude. I think now, I know now, he was being kind. Deliberately obvious and crude. Just as he sometimes lets me beat him at chess. He went to make Turkish coffee and he said through the door, you’re misleading. I went and stood in the kitchen door, while he watched the vriki. He looked back at me. I could swear you want it sometimes. How old are you? I said. I could be your father. Is that what you mean? I hate promiscuity, I said. I didn’t mean that. He had his back turned to me. I felt angry with him, he seemed so irresponsible. I said, anyhow, you don’t attract me that way in the least. He said, with his back still turned, what do you mean by promiscuity? I said, going to bed for pleasure. Sex and nothing else. Without love. He said, I’m very promiscuous then. I never go to bed with the people I love. I did once. I said, you warned me against Barber Cruikshank. I’m warning you against myself now, he said. He stood watching the vriki. You know the Ashmolean Uccello? The Hunt? No? The design hits you the moment you see it. Apart from all the other technical things. You know it’s faultless. The professors with Middle-European names spend their lives working out what the great inner secret is, that thing you feel at the first glance. Now, I see you have the great inner secret, too. God knows what it is. I’m not a Middle-European professor, I don’t really care how it is. But you have it. You’re like Sheraton joinery. You won’t fall apart. He spoke it all in a very matter-of-fact voice. Too. It’s hazard, of course, he said. The genes. He lifted the vriki off the gas-ring at the last possible moment. The only thing is, he said, there’s that scarlet point in your eye. What is it? Passion? Stop? He stood staring at me, the dry look. It’s not bed, I said. But for someone? For no one. I sat on the divan and he on his high stool by the bench. I’ve shocked you, he said. I was warned. ——— John Fowles - The Collector #book -
In Dark Light
by laura-makabresku 
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In Dark Light
by orbitingasupernova 
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In Dark Light
by AnatoFinnstark 
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In Dark Light
by ptitvinc 
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In Dark Light
by tahra 
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In Dark Light
by JeromeComentale 
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In Dark Light
https://youtu.be/MAmpBFA988k #music_video -
In Dark Light
BioShock 
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In Dark Light
The Long Journey by Daniele-Serra 
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In Dark Light
by Sanchiko 
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In Dark Light
by Valentina-Remenar 
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In Dark Light
by laura-makabresku 
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In Dark Light
Quasimodo had halted beneath the great portal, his huge feet seemed as solid on the pavement of the church as the heavy Roman pillars. His great, bushy head sat low between his shoulders, like the heads of lions, who also have a mane and no neck. He held the young girl, who was quivering all over, suspended from his horny hands like a white drapery; but he carried her with as much care as though he feared to break her or blight her. One would have said that he felt that she was a delicate, exquisite, precious thing, made for other hands than his. There were moments when he looked as if not daring to touch her, even with his breath. Then, all at once, he would press her forcibly in his arms, against his angular bosom, like his own possession, his treasure, as the mother of that child would have done. His gnome's eye, fastened upon her, inundated her with tenderness, sadness, and pity, and was suddenly raised filled with lightnings. Then the women laughed and wept, the crowd stamped with enthusiasm, for, at that moment Quasimodo had a beauty of his own. He was handsome; he, that orphan, that foundling, that outcast, he felt himself august and strong, he gazed in the face of that society from which he was banished, and in which he had so powerfully intervened, of that human justice from which he had wrenched its prey, of all those tigers whose jaws were forced to remain empty, of those policemen, those judges, those executioners, of all that force of the king which he, the meanest of creatures, had just broken, with the force of God. ——— Victor Hugo - The Hunchback of Notre-Dame #book -
In Dark Light
by exellero 