“I stand at the window of this great house in the south of France as night falls, te which is leading me to the most terrible morning of my light. I have a drink in my hand, there is a bottle at my elbow. I watch my reflection in the darkening gleam of the window pane. My reflection is tall, perhaps rather like an arrow, my blond hair gleams. My face is like a face you have seen many times. My ancestors conquered a continent, pushing across death-laden plains, until they came to an ocean which faced away from Europe into a darker past.”
“I stand at the window of this great house in the south of France as night falls, te which is leading me to the most terrible morning of my light. I have a drink in my hand, there is a bottle at my elbow. I watch my reflection in the darkening gleam of the window pane. My reflection is tall, perhaps rather like an arrow, my blond hair gleams. My face is like a face you have seen many times. My ancestors conquered a continent, pushing across death-laden plains, until they came to an ocean which faced away from Europe into a darker past.”
Ian McEwans Solar (som jag har stående i någon nedre hylla och vägrat läsa)? eller för stolt ändå. Ett därur avbrytande stycke i så fall.
“I stand at the window of this great house in the south of France as night falls, te which is leading me to the most terrible morning of my light. I have a drink in my hand, there is a bottle at my elbow. I watch my reflection in the darkening gleam of the window pane. My reflection is tall, perhaps rather like an arrow, my blond hair gleams. My face is like a face you have seen many times. My ancestors conquered a continent, pushing across death-laden plains, until they came to an ocean which faced away from Europe into a darker past.”
Har ingen gissning, men te which is leading me to the most terrible morning of my light, är det verkligen rätt citerat?
