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Let me be, was all I wanted.
Nabokov hunting butterflies above Gstaad, summer 1971, “as a fat hairless old man in shorts” Hello followers, this is me, the creator, inserting myself Pale Fire- style, into the “narrative.”
Pictured above, The Beauty of the Night , made in 1954 by Max Ernst (1891-1976); in the collection of the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Washington DC
“How clear, how lovely bright, How beautiful to sight Those beams of morning play; How heaven laughs out with glee Where, like a bird set free, Up from the eastern sea Soars the delightful day.
Please Help On March 25, my stepfather went to the emergency room after experiencing chest pains.