[SOLZHENITSOF]

ABBA VITE's Liberalist Novel

THE WORST VIZ. THE BEST

By Prof. MES SOLZHENITSOF

Continuing from the previous chapters...

In that sincere home visit, he promised himself to marry Eve when he returned from the unexpected extraordinariness of an ordinary get-together designed with instinct, not on paper, to talk about a little book culture, a little politics and a little news among friends. However, their societies were filled with young ladies who were not restless in making love but in marrying, unlike the peoples living in non-European culture countries. Therefore, she didn't even want to think about what effect the marriage proposal would have on Eve so, he was almost shivering. In addition, while no kind of social negativity could be put out of the age difference between the young girl and the elderly that it would not cause any problems in her love bed. All in all, might what happen when it came to marriage, huh? He would try to resolve it by remembering the girl's evasive gaze. The point he reached at the end of events that should of course be far from a slightly terrifying, unsettling, but very destructive effect would lead him to reconsider his past in a state of being half asleep, half thinking until the morning, if necessary and possible, in his hiding place. Could the average life of his could be much higher rank regarding to his present existence be too much different than that of his currently existing after to have gained the aid of The Saviour? In such a merry-go round safe style he spoke to himself with particular voice control, which should be all the more noticeable because during their conversation he was still very much dominating his friends as his staff, and a very impertinent one at that. ‘I’d quite forgotten my power,’ mumbled he, planting his big foot on a cushion left at the floor. The he gave a new start to pondering deep: ‘They must have left it long ago. But I never saw this cushion at the beginning of entering into the chat,’ said he, ‘and I was not out of the room almost all the time.’ Obviously, he would prefer to carry on with his self-eulogy ‘Well, I’m safe and sound here,’
Humboldt, fervently pressing her foot down harder cushion as if he was. Russia and that pressed object, regretfully was Ukraine. There was something cheerful, and yet not easy-going an arbitrariness in his play with an innocent thing which the elderly hadn’t noticed at all before, and now, improbably, the eternal soul yearning for play gained the upper hand as it suddenly happened to make him as a green-horn apprentice in an atelier bent down to the basic instinct…Notwithstanding he pondered intuitively through a sharp guffaw and saying: ‘Maybe I could be hidden down here.’ Besides he quickly gave up his long term plan regarding camouflage to have escaped from responsibility and then popped up again, roaring regretfully: ‘Yep I am here, but you’re.’

TO BE CONTINUED...