Ada or Ardour by Vladimir Nabokov

– when we remember our former selves, there is always that little figure with its long shadow stopping like an uncertain belated visitor on a lighted threshold at the far end of an implacably narrow corridor. Ada saw herself there as a wonder-eyed waif with a bedraggled nosegay; Van saw himself as a nasty young satyr with clumsy hooves and an ambiguous flue pipe.

– partie extérieure er charnne qui forme le contour de la bouche…les deux bords d’une plaie simple…c’est le member qui lèche. (we simply speak with our wounds ; wounds procreate.)

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