For years afterwards when Armory thought of Eleanor he seemed to hear the wind sobbing around him and sending little chills into the pleases beside his hearth. The night when they rode up the slope and watched the cold moon float through the clouds, he lost a further part of him that nothing could restore;
and when he lost it he lost also the power of regretting it. Eleanor was, say, the last time that evil crept close to Armory under the mask of beauty, the last weird mystery that held him with the wild fascination and pounded his souls to flakes.
With her, his imagination ran riot and that is why they rode the highest hill and watched an evil moon ride high, for they knew then that they could see the devil face in each other. But Eleanor- did Armory dream her?. Afterwards their ghosts played, yet both of them hoped from their souls never to meet.
Was it the infinite sadness of her eyes that drew him or the mirror of himself that he found in the gorgeus clarity of her mind? She will have no other adventure like Armory and if she reads this, she will say:
-"And Armory will have no other adventure like me".
La felicidad no es una constante, sino una variable dependiente del momento y la compañia.
Birlo
2 comentarios:
(^^,)
_______
"Así, que levanté los ojos por encima del seto, pero tú echaste a correr por alguna razón desconocida, y sólo pude ver la parte de atrás de tu hermosa cabeza. "Oh", me dije, "He aquí un hombre por el que muchas de nosotras podríamos suspirar"
T
e
Q
u
i
e
r
o
Tanto...
Que me duele mirar hacia dentro; y verme débil y vulnerable ante tu mirada.
Me odio al dejar temblar mis manos cuando oigo tu nombre, y al sonreir mientras recuerdo tu roce.
... y aun así no me importa;
y sólo por ello me odio el doble;
y te kiero más y más a cada instante.
Publicar un comentario