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Old 11-14-2021, 09:41 AM
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SOLZHENITSOF SOLZHENITSOF is offline
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Default Re: ABBA VITE namely Doctor Solzhenitsof's novel

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Originally Posted by Stephen Maturin View Post
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Originally Posted by SOLZHENITSOF View Post
TO BE CONTINUED...
ABBA VITE namely Doctor Solzhenitsof's Liberal Novel
(Continuing from the previous chapters...)

His hands-no matter right or left one-were ready to spread and to have been running through his hair, but he could not redress his head any more instead he worried-half giggling half whispering-about his lover ‘Who was that maiden?’ he asked for many times and too much lowered regarding to his routine voice. ‘The friend of Adela, huh?’ He was standing then in front of another shopwindow belonging nowhere, and did not even look at the signboard of the shop. ‘Oh no,’ sighed he, ‘that’s the first thing I need must look at.’ After scrutinizing it he happened to mumble, ‘Well, they have seemingly used a fine font to have been printed at the board, to be sure, what a pity my attentiveness has turned out so badly in the street…Then what about the bed of love? Oh no, I ought to be awakened after sleeping-day in and night out-for so many decades of my life.’ observed the twitches over his hand muscles, drawing to the head waiting to be scratched to have been slightly downed to the nearest ear. ‘I-Humboldt the elderly was putting on airs in the love bed; my father is only as two third-at the most-as younger than that of my age then in the wedding hall to have been the bridegroom for he was one of the most junior of the husbandry candidates in those days.’ he guffawed sneakily. At this moment al the parents of his seemed like a child to Humboldt. ‘What a rascal!’ should have they said, laughing if they had seen him while making love with a young girl two times younger than him. However, his senses did not join in his laughter based on reason, but said, ‘Obviously my father was powerful too adding to his youth that would dare to get married as an adolescent.’ And he opposed to himself ‘Oh, come along!’ moreover rebelling ‘I think everyone is powerful. Including me, I wonder?’ ‘No,’ he rebuked himself, diffidently but gravely, ‘I don’t think I’m powerful. And yet a very good observer, then,’ he would give his own consent say nothing more his speculation ‘The fact is, and just between my reason and my sense, I really am not powerful. And as a result, I probably feel no less respect for the powerful than I should do, but I am not as honest as me before the sexual intercourse and won’t always admit it.’ And to cheer his ego and show his own good-will to his hopeful spirit, he tapped lightly on the left cheek because of his postural addiction to have kept his head leaning slightly towards right. At this Humboldt did also smile a little. Ah! Those old good days he was only a boy really, with a soft and almost beardless face. How had he come to marry as a stout elderly a girl too much young who could not be imagined through a hatch bustling about the kitchen next door, hands on her hips, elbows jutting, huh? But Humboldt did not want to probe the man any further now, or wipe the smile he had finally won from him off his face; he just signed to her face image reflected from the shopwindows supervising the pavement giving the chance to have stepped out into the street caressed by a familiar breeze. Now he could see the white clouds swept by the same wind above, distinctly outlined in the clear air, and standing out even more distinctly because of the thin beams of the sun!

TO BE CONTINUED...
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