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Old 11-21-2021, 01:41 PM
Join Date: Nov 2011
Posts: DLXIX
Default Re: ABBA VITE namely Doctor Solzhenitsof's novel

Continuing from the previous chapters...


Liberalist Novel

From then going on his sensitivity fixed on “L’ Affair de Coeur”, so that From then going on his sensitivity fixed on “L’ Affair de Coeur”, so that he went on, paying no attention to anything else but the Turkish Islam devoid of love. But as he came closer abstractly to the European concept, say humanism he thought the Ottoman Empire to have been disappointing; after all, for the super powers of the new world were to be administered only by a poor kind of collection of cottages type leaders-their personalities ruined by human rights induced fragility assembled into a little civilization not powerful enough to create suicide bombers, and distinguished within the mankind’s family only by the fact that the humanist hearts couldn’t be made of stone, while the brave Turkish Muslims Jihadists’ might all be built of stone, even if the Andalusian’s love fully invented paint had flaked off-long ago-RECEP TAYYIP ERDOGAN’s vagabonds bravery based on jihad, although the stone itself seemed to be crumbling away under the fists of American and Russian brave soldiers who hindered massacres aiming at destruction to delete Kurdish existence in Syria. Humboldt thought fleetingly of his own home town-The Europe, which was hardly inferior to the nest of Jihadists viz. the New Ottoman Empire. If he had come to the thought only to see the places not matching to make love. He would have made a long journey over free thought namely liberal mentality for nothing much, and he would have done better to revisit the old European Culture abstractly that he hadn’t seen for so long. In his mind when he compared the church tower of his childhood home with the tower up above to too ear scratching noisy minarets in the occupied Constantinople. The former, tapering into a spire and coming down to a broad, red-tiled roof, was certainly a super humanitarian building, huh? And yet the others had been erected for a higher purpose than those huddled, low-built souls of Islamic terrorists and made a clearer statement than the dull, bloody world of the terror nests did. The tower up there-the only visible one-now turned out to belong to a dwelling, perhaps the main part of the call to the new Caliphate. It was a simple, round building, partly covered with dubious anti-civilization, and it had small windows opening to love, now shining in the Islamic Terror flares burning especially Paris. There was something crazed about the sight and was built into the shape of a bravura at the top of the new caliph’s palace in Ankara, with insecure, irregular battlements, crumbling as if drawn by an anxious or careless child as they stood out, zigzag fashion, against the humanist heavens. It was as if some mischievous inhabitant of the place, who should really have stayed locked up in the most remote room in the house, had broken through the roof and was standing erect to show himself to the world. Once again Humboldt augmented his free thought, as if standing still improved his powers of love and peace.
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