Story of a Life, Volume 6 |
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Page 19
The warm ryeladen breeze blew in my face . The silence of the fields , untouched by a single sound apart from the distant hoot of the departing train , enveloped me . I stood for a while under the old elms on the platform and sniffed ...
The warm ryeladen breeze blew in my face . The silence of the fields , untouched by a single sound apart from the distant hoot of the departing train , enveloped me . I stood for a while under the old elms on the platform and sniffed ...
Page 103
He was lying on his side on a sofa with his knees up , and his face was bathed in tears . They had not yet had time to dry . His face expressed so much childish grief that no one could look at that photograph .
He was lying on his side on a sofa with his knees up , and his face was bathed in tears . They had not yet had time to dry . His face expressed so much childish grief that no one could look at that photograph .
Page 199
I still remember his face . I had never before seen anything more sinister , and probably never will . His flabby face appeared to me enormous . It was clean shaven . The man was calmly and slowly moving his lips as if chewing .
I still remember his face . I had never before seen anything more sinister , and probably never will . His flabby face appeared to me enormous . It was clean shaven . The man was calmly and slowly moving his lips as if chewing .
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Contents
Map page | 9 |
The Last Meeting II | 11 |
The Silent Fields | 18 |
Copyright | |
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able appeared asked Babel Bagritsky banks beauty birds boys breath brought called clear cold colour course covered dark door everything eyes face fact Father feeling felt floor flowers forests friends garden gave girls give hand happened head hundred immediately Kara-Bugaz kind knew land later leaves light lived looked lying morning Moscow Mother never night occasionally Odessa once particularly Peter play poet poetry published quiet rain reason remained remember river Roskin round Russian seemed ship short side silence sitting smell smoke soon sound started station story streets suddenly tell things thought took town train trees turned vast voice walked walls warm whole wind window women writer wrote young Zuzenko