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Название книги: Houston, Houston, Do You Read?
Автор(ы): James Tiptree jr.
Жанр: Современная проза
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/Houston_-Houston_-Do-You-Read_-192186.html
Lorimer gazes around the big crowded cabin, trying to listen to the voices, trying also to ignore the twitch,, in his insides that means he is about to remember something bad. No help; he lives it again, that long ago moment. Himself running blindly – or was he pushed?-into the strange toilet at Evanston Junior High. His fly open, his dick in his hand, he can still see the grey zipper edge of his jeans around his pale exposed pecker. The hush. The sickening wrongness of shapes, faces turning. The first blaring giggle. Girls. He was in the girls' can.He flinches wryly now, so many years later, not looking at the women's faces. The cabin curves around over his head surrounding him with their alien things: the beading rack, the twins' loom, Andy's leather work, the damned kudzu vine wriggling everywhere, the chickens. So cosy… Trapped, he is. Irretrievably trapped for life in everything he does not enjoy. Strutturelessness. Personal trivia, unmeaning intimacies. The clai
Название книги: Houston, Houston, Do You Read?
Автор(ы): James Tiptree jr.
Жанр: Современная проза
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/Houston_-Houston_-Do-You-Read_-192186.html
Lorimer gazes around the big crowded cabin, trying to listen to the voices, trying also to ignore the twitch,, in his insides that means he is about to remember something bad. No help; he lives it again, that long ago moment. Himself running blindly – or was he pushed?-into the strange toilet at Evanston Junior High. His fly open, his dick in his hand, he can still see the grey zipper edge of his jeans around his pale exposed pecker. The hush. The sickening wrongness of shapes, faces turning. The first blaring giggle. Girls. He was in the girls' can.He flinches wryly now, so many years later, not looking at the women's faces. The cabin curves around over his head surrounding him with their alien things: the beading rack, the twins' loom, Andy's leather work, the damned kudzu vine wriggling everywhere, the chickens. So cosy… Trapped, he is. Irretrievably trapped for life in everything he does not enjoy. Strutturelessness. Personal trivia, unmeaning intimacies. The clai
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