Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Look at that by - (read ebook pdf .txt) 📖
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Simos Panopoulos - Look at that
6
Part One
Chapter 1
“Lila had, with a certain amount of commotion to be sure, shut the door upon exit - not out of anger or vexation probably, but then again he couldn’t swear by it. It was, you see, one of those heavy, reinforced ones. Barely a minute later, and after whichever char-acteristic sounds – due to her high heels and wheeled suitcase, and his apartment building’s elevator and en-trance door – were to echo, echoed, he saw her from his window emerge out onto the sidewalk. There was nothing in her figure or gait that revealed whether some thoughts were going through her head at that moment – Babis2 taking for granted that they were an-yway –, and if so, which ones?
If anything was revealing, it was her great haste to make the next train in time. Seconds later and she would be out of his line of sight, maybe even forever.
2 Greek male name (pronounced Bubish not babies :-).
- He’s such an ass for not waiting by the door till she got on the lift.
- But she just dumped him.
- Apples and oranges.
Ask a neuroscientist too to be sure.
Simos Panopoulos - Look at that
7
Suddenly, he felt alone in the now vacant-of-Lila-and-her-stuff house.
Without anything else intervening, he felt blue. He wiped the two or three teardrops that rolled down his cheeks with his sleeve. It might have been silly, but they were due to the comment she had left him with just moments before: “It’s so silly, I know, but if there’s something that brings tears to my eyes the most about leaving you, it’s that I’m never going to taste that seafood pasta of yours again.”
Or rather credited as it will eventually turn out.
Simos Panopoulos - Look at that
8
Chapter 2
From the moment he had glued himself in front of the computer screen at daybreak, he must have read that same paragraph about fifty times and it still wasn’t up to scratch. He had been struggling with it for a month now. He had sweated blood to set it on the right path but it was all in vain. It persistently resisted his every attempt to humanize it a little, even if he accommo-dated its every whim. Frowned at a noun? He’d serve it with another. Not impressed with such and such ad-jective? He’d sacrifice it there and then without a sec-ond thought. Fussy about
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