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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Book online «Look at that by - (read ebook pdf .txt) 📖». Author -
Legwork? You’re pulling my leg, more like, implying that supposedly I’m only writing for the glory.
+ as well as the snare in which she would fall
- What about Lila?
- She had ever so subtly done a runner. How could she ever put up with him?
-Further down, you’re saying that it didn’t.
-It did, all right, but he had repressed it.
And do you expect the reader to consult an oracle in order to know that the first is Babis and the second his own self?
Simos Panopoulos - Look at that
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her telling him, but also his own voice vainly refuting it, the following: enough was enough, she was tired of his grumbling and his digs about her extra kilos, her nutrition, the books she read or didn’t read, the films she watched or those she didn’t watch, the exercising she didn’t do, the internet she was permanently glued to. She had had it up to here, she added – and drew an imaginary line on her forehead with her finger – that for every comment she made, he would turn around to say that things were far more complicated than she thought them to be (despite not ever bringing home to her what their complexity finally consisted of). That deep down, (although not so deep after all since it was as clear as daylight) – and this was the most offensive part she spat out with tears in her eyes and that dra-matic tension which always colored her words – he be-lieved that he deserved something better. Yes, exactly like that, she was even certain about how he worded it all in his mind, because ok, he had enough tact not to blurt it out squarely - “something”, as if she was a thing, an object. Words could not describe, she con-tinued, how pissed off she was every single time they were out walking together, guessing from the ecstatic expression in his eyes (like an astrophysicist guesses at the existence of an exoplanet based on the decrease in luminosity of a star, when one passes by in front
+ but ought to read
+ but ought to watch
Aren’t
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