|
|||||
| I
hate it, I despise it, I loathe it, I detest it, and yet I am filled with it, with implacable . . . The Trembling Image "Neda! Neda!" he called. "Don't be afraid! Neda!" The trembling image on the computer screen like water in the palm of your hand. The knees crooked slightly, the white athletic shoes parted, the rust-red patch on the asphalt. Circling, the image spiraled in to the vulnerable head, the face, pale, paling, 
|
and the eyes
caught it,  |
||||
