Friday, April 24, 2015

The Library

"Sometimes I think that shadowy, doorless little shelter -- which is all it was really, an empty, empty place -- is where at heart I want to be. Beyond it was a wire fence and then a sloping, moonlit field of grass -- 'the Wilderness' -- that whispered and sighed in the night breeze. Nipping into that library of uncatalogued pleasure was to step into the dark and halt. Then held breath was released, a cigarette glowed, its smoke was smelled, the substantial blackness moved, glimmered and touched. Friendly hands felt for the flies. There was never, or rarely, any kissing -- no cloying, adult impurity in the lubricious innocence of what we did."

~ William to Phil in The Swimming Pool Library (by Alan Hollingurst)

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