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Ryu Murakami

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  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    That’s what violence was: emotion leaking out from consciousness into the physical world, linking up with the muscles of the arms and shoulders and diaphragm and, inevitably, the face.
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    And nothing in this world ever looked more deliciously lascivious than that vagina of hers,
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    Where had she learned such technique? Were moves like this in the repertoire of all young women these days? Or was it only because of her stunning beauty, and the intensity of his desire for her, that her touch seemed so excruciatingly sensual?
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    He didn’t know what to do. He felt completely at her mercy, and was unable even to ask why she’d turned out the lights. It was getting harder to breathe, but he continued blathering on.
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    There were no official guidelines for seducing a woman, or for analysing her response. But at some point, as a man, you had to make a move.
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    Yeah. I guess I’m just so nuts about her that . . . I don’t know. It’s not as if there’s anything specific to be afraid of. I’m just afraid.’
    ‘That’s the romanticism.’
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    reathtakingly beautiful, very popular with the clients, nothing but the top class of patrons, but basically unfathomable. They’d have an almost unnatural sort of beauty, the sort of beauty that made you wonder if it hadn’t been nourished by all the misery and misfortune in the world. The sort of beauty that can destroy a man. And of course that sense of danger, too, seems to drive men wild. The old femme fatale thing.’
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    one thing I can say for sure is that the more intimate you become with her, the more obsessed you’re going to get.
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    She’s like smoke: you think you’re seeing her clearly enough, but when you reach for her there’s nothing there.
  • Corinaalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    asaki Asami’s lips were cold and soft and sweet, and the moment the kiss was over he’d experienced, along with exhilaration, a bizarre sense of guilt, or shame. It wasn’t quite like anything he’d ever known before – a sense of having done something that can never be retracted, or forgiven. It was a bitter, almost painful, sort of feeling, but it was also intoxicating.
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