Archiv der Kategorie: GIACOMO.JOYCE

Mio Padre: she does the simplest acts with distinction. Unde derivatur? Mia figlia ha una grandissima ammirazione per il suo maestro inglese. The old man‘s face, handsome, flushed, with strong Jewish features and long white whiskers, turns towards me as … Weiterlesen →

I rush out of the tobacco-shop and call her name. She turns and halts to hear my jumbled words of lessons, hours, lessons, hours: and slowly her pale cheeks are flushed with a kindling opal light. Nay, nay, be not … Weiterlesen →

Papa and the girls sliding downhill, astride of a toboggan: the Grand Turk and his harem. Tightly capped and jacketted, boots laced in deft crisscross over the flesh-warmed tongue, the short skirt taut from the round knobs of the knees. … Weiterlesen →

Twilight. Crossing the piazza. Grey eve lowering on wide sagegreen pasturelands, shedding silently dusk and dew. She follows her mother with ungainly grace, the mare leading her filly foal. Grey twilight moulds softly the slim and shapely haunches, the meek … Weiterlesen →

Padua far beyond the sea. The silent middle age, night darkness of history sleep in the Piazza delle Erbe under the moon. The city sleeps. Under the arches in the dark streets near the river the whore‘s eyes spy out … Weiterlesen →

A flower given by her to my daughter. Frail gift, frail giver, frail blue-veined child. >>>> Giacomo Joyce 9 Giacomo Joyce 7 <<<< Editorial <<<<

A ricefield near Vercelli under creamy summer haze. The wings of her drooping hat shadow her false smile. Shadows streak her falsely smiling face, smitten by the hot creamy light, grey wheyhued shaddows under the jawbones, streaks of eggyolk yellow … Weiterlesen →

Rounded and ripened: rounded by the lathe of intermarriage and ripened in the forcing-house of the seclusion of her race. >>>> Giacomo Joyce 7 Giacomo Joyce 5 <<<< Editorial <<<<

She never blows her nose. A form of speech: the lesser for the greater. >>>> Giacomo Joyce 6 Giacomo Joyce 4 <<<< Editorial <<<<

High Heels clack hollow on the resonant stone stairs. Wintry air in the castle, gibbeted coats of mail, rude iron scones over the windings of the winding turret stairs. Tapping clacking heels, a high and hollow nose. There is one … Weiterlesen →

I launch forth on an easy wave of tepid speech: Swedenborg, the pseudo Areopagite, Miguel de Molinos, Joachim Abbas. The wave is spent. Her classmate, retwisting her twisted body, purrs in boneless Viennese Italian: Che coltura! The long eyelids beat … Weiterlesen →

Cobweb handwriting, traced long and fine with quiet disdain and resignation: a young person of quality. >>>> Giacomo Joyce 3 Giacomo Joyce 1 <<<< Editorial <<<<

Who? A pale face surrounded by heavy odorous furs. Her movements are shy and nervous. She uses quizzing-glasses. Yes: a brief syllable. A brief laugh. A brief beat of the eyelids.(Das hier kursive Yes ist in der Handschrift unterstrichen.) Zur … Weiterlesen →