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Old 12-04-2021, 08:56 PM
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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 JoeP View Post
And every one of those D posts over 10 years a work of unparalleled writing.
The speed of time-generally-elapsing so he made love-covered wit a mist of unexpectedness- after mating he took intensively a rest, went out, walked on, but it was not a long way apt to inventing stories such as running into a guide or teacher and chattering so that he felt his imagination fallen into another obligation to invent another story and yet he was unable to repeat any for he was in the main street of the village, and it did not lead to any place strange enough to think up something as strange as those past already but merely passed close to itself before turning aside, as if on purpose, and although it moved no further away from the home of his, it came no closer either. Humboldt kept thinking that it wouldn’t be road for roads should have finally bring him to the home, and, if only because of that expectation, he went on pondering ad hoc love making. Because of his weariness he naturally shrank from leaving that thought, and he was surprised by the extent of the old home of his-its bigness, which seemed as if it could never give way to make love, with more and more little intervals through intervals of romantic bundles of kissing, while its window-panes covered not by flowers, and with no laces and the absence of other broidery or such things so at last he tore his brain’s tendency towards deep thought away from the speculations on which he had persisted and struck out down a narrow alley where the confusion lay even deeper.

TO BE CONTINUED...
Humboldt pondered: ‘For those whose training time is very valuable, it is boring at first because during the preparatory period, you cannot make daily or hourly work schedules to get to the whole base. But if the basics are completed individually or in various branches, it is under your control to start and finish the work one would be in, whether in the morning, in the evening, or even in the afternoon or at night.’
Eventually he should visit the girl’s home so soon and hardly he had finished that requisition induced mission than he began to walk away towards her family’s house. Of course, there need must some preparatory calculations:
At last, some minutes of the steam drifted away alongside him, and gradually Humboldt felt that he was able to pull himself together.
In his youth, he wished that happy moments would never pass, even though he unconsciously knew they would pass and was slightly upset. However, at a very mature age, he wants the same things and the presently knows it clearly that all would pass, but he also takes a natural pleasure from the absence of endless moments. This seemed the ulterior goal to be lived different in different ages for everyone.
Pulling his thinking and sensing mental faculty extensions out of deep thought as they kept sinking in again was hard work all in all he broke out in a sweat, and suddenly he stopped and could go feel further. But he wasn’t entirely alone after all because of the young girl, say the school friend of the beautiful Adelaide with whom he was jumped into a sudden and unexpected love bed-its depth, there were shadows-to his right and his left-that should have known well both Humboldt and the maiden. He hastened to reach the girl’s family house, and he made a ball of tabloids and threw it at any window randomly. The front door opened at once-the first door he had seen opening on his entire walk all the way through the village-and he saw an old man in a fume overcoat, his head on one side, looking both frail and friendly. ‘May I come into your house for a little while?’ asked Humboldt. ‘I’m very tired.’ He did not hear what the old-and yet not too much older than him-man was saying, but gratefully he realized that a welcome gesture was to aim at easing his way into. This got him clear of the obscurity straight away, and a few more paces took him into the parlour of the girl’s house. It was a large, broadly lit room to have been in contradiction of the visits of his paid to the girls he shared love when he was nearly a lad. Regarding to those events coming in from outside, he could see something at first, he wouldn’t have been fed up with tasting all the existence of theirs there that should constrain him to try and stop the vision flowing before his very eyes so that he might have staggered and nearly fell over a Persian carpet thereby would-no doubt-everything would be a part of elapsing minutes. Then a woman’s hand caught him. Besides he heard her voice and roared: YEP! She ought not to be everybody but the girl with whom he has mated just before some ten and ten hours. Whereas a number of ten and ten hours he should have been spending with ladies in the love bed tending to slide under his body which he would rather make postponed within that elapsing nature in its journey from mornings to nights or vice versa.
Shadows were moving on the wall as to have been being in the past from one corner to the other. Steam of happy seconds linked to love affairs of his in their hasty chase had billowed out of another, and then was going on with the same process although Humboldt was sure that the peerless visit, he paid to the one he made love not before a long time. (Strange to say the love induced hours should be stopped both in the past and “present” time while their non stopped nature wouldn’t make him sad then to the contrary of all past before a long time because he as a young man should feel the dream of everlasting happiness desire inevitable in the case of love as every lover did while Humboldt the elder didn’t for he would turn into somebody able to protect time while he ought to be happy because of his getting older and to protect himself against dreariness that should be inevitably everlasting and if Humboldt might have been unhappy when he might feel surrounded by fixed clouds instead of his love for rain.
‘Am I drunk?’ is asked as something betwixt inner and superficial self-speculations. ‘What am doing during happy-I should seek time to time for-in the moments I would be tasting?’ cried Humboldt under the oppression of a peremptory voice, and added, probably turning to the old man: ‘Why didn’t you let me in? Are you to let in everyone who goes slinking around the streets?’ ‘You are the man my daughter is planning to get married for a long time,’ said the old land owner, by way of justifying himself to the still-visible yet not well-known speaker. ‘Oh, it’s the darling of mine,’ said the girl’s voice being insinuated therein, and then there was total silence. ‘You know me?’ asked Humboldt ‘Yes, indeed,’ was all the first voice said again, briefly. Knowing who he was didn’t seem to recommend him to himself at the very last.

TO BE CONTINUED....
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