But there is another Tania, a Tania like a big seed who scatters
pollen everywhere – or, let us say, a little bit of Tolstoy, a stable
scene in which the fetus is dug up. Tania is a fever, too – les voies
urinaires, Café de la Liberté, Place des Vosges, bright neckties on
the Boulevard Montparnasse, dark bathrooms, Porto Sec, Abdullah
cigarettes, the adagio sonata Pathétique, aural amplificators,
anecdotal seances, burnt sienna breasts, heavy garters, what time is
it, golden pheasants stuffed with chestnuts, taffeta fingers, vaporish
twilights turning to ilex, acromegaly, cancer and delirium, warm
veils, poker chips, carpets of blood and soft thighs.
-- Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer
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Jon Corelis www.geocities.com/jgcorelis/
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