22 years on this Earth. UT Austin Student. Loves love. Loves people. Hates limitation. I like to write about anything. Posts randomly. The soundtrack of my life...& a whole bunch of other shit. I use this blog the way ancients used caves to paint their stories for the next generation to discover and add on to. It's a snapshot of my mental memories. Click next down below if you like what you see :)
"She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita."
-Nabokov
If he wasn’t describing a prepubescent girl, this would actually be romantic more than controversial. Nonetheless Nabokov is a talented writer. Who would describe one person with so much voice.
Authors are amazing in that we can get inside of their heads and see exactly how intensely they feel about people, places, and things. But there is always that one mystery we cannot solve. That one thing that separates fiction from reality. The whole story cannot be told.
Kind of looking at someone who is completely naked thinking you can see everything but truth is that is only the surface. An egg shell that is uncracked.
