"Carol Emshwiller - The Circular Library of Stones" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emshwiller Carol) Frames ON
The Circular Library of Stones Frames OFF By Carol Emshwiller Poison (part 1 of 2) by Beth Bernobich 4/30/01 1/20/03 Our keepers, the They said all this wasn't true. That there had been no city on this site scientists, had used complicated words since even before the time of the Indians . . . that there had been no like metamorphosis bridge across the (now dried up) river and no barriers against the mud. "If and hormones and camouflage to you have been searching for a library here," they said, "or for old coins, explain us. We you've been wasting your time." could turn invisible, they'd said. We For lack of space I had put some of the small, white stones in plant could change from baskets and hung them from the ceiling by the window. I don't argue with male to female and back. Survival people about what nonexistent city could have existed at this site. I just adaptations, they'd collect the stones. (Two have Xs scratched on them, only one of which I called it. I wondered stones of all sizes, is soft and easy to deal with. Often it is damp and was for our survival. fragrant. And I disturb very little in the way of trees or plants of any real size here. Also most of the stones, even the larger ones, are of a size Rushes #1 of 12: that I can manage fairly well by myself. Besides, mainly it's the stones One Is All Alone that I want to reveal. I don't want to move them from place to place by Jay Lake except some of the most important small ones, which I take home with 1/20/03 "So," says a voice of rattling me after a day's digging. Often I have found battered aluminum pots and leaves and creaking pans around the site. Once I found an old boot and once, a pair of broken branches. "At last glasses; but these, of course, are of no significance whatsoever, being you return." clearly of the present. Interrupt by Jeff Carlson Gaining access to their books! If I could find the library and learn to read 1/13/03 Whatever their writing! If I could find, there, stories beyond my wildest dreams. A happened to the sun love story, for instance, where the love is of a totally different kind . . . a seems to be kind of ardor we have never even thought of, more long-lasting than our intensifying. This time I blacked out simple attachments, more world-shaking than our simple sexualities. Or a for at least five |
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