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Название книги: The Names
Автор(ы): Don DeLillo
Жанр: Современная проза
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Names-229968.html
The Island1
For a long time I stayed away from the Acropolis. It daunted me, that somber rock. I preferred to wander in the modern city, imperfect, blaring. The weight and moment of those worked stones promised to make the business of seeing them a complicated one. So much converges there. It's what we've rescued from the madness. Beauty, dignity, order, proportion. There are obligations attached to such a visit.Then there was the question of its renown. I saw myself climbing the rough streets of the Plaka, past the discos, the handbag shops, the rows of bamboo chairs. Slowly, out of every bending lane, in waves of color and sound, came tourists in striped sneakers, fanning themselves with postcards, the philhellenes, laboring uphill, vastly unhappy, mingling in one unbroken line up to the monumental gateway.What ambiguity there is in exalted things. We despise them a little.I kept putting off a visit. The ruins stood above the hissing traffic like some monument to doomed expectations. I'd turn a corner, adjusting
Название книги: The Names
Автор(ы): Don DeLillo
Жанр: Современная проза
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Names-229968.html
The Island1
For a long time I stayed away from the Acropolis. It daunted me, that somber rock. I preferred to wander in the modern city, imperfect, blaring. The weight and moment of those worked stones promised to make the business of seeing them a complicated one. So much converges there. It's what we've rescued from the madness. Beauty, dignity, order, proportion. There are obligations attached to such a visit.Then there was the question of its renown. I saw myself climbing the rough streets of the Plaka, past the discos, the handbag shops, the rows of bamboo chairs. Slowly, out of every bending lane, in waves of color and sound, came tourists in striped sneakers, fanning themselves with postcards, the philhellenes, laboring uphill, vastly unhappy, mingling in one unbroken line up to the monumental gateway.What ambiguity there is in exalted things. We despise them a little.I kept putting off a visit. The ruins stood above the hissing traffic like some monument to doomed expectations. I'd turn a corner, adjusting
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