The sun was falling in the... «The Virgin Suicides»
starface15 декабря 2017The sun was falling in the haze of distant factories, and in the adjoining slums the scatter of glass picked up the raw glow of the smoggy sunset. Sounds we usually couldn't hear reached us now that we were up high, and crouching on the tarred shingles, resting chins in hands, we made out, faintly, an indecipherable backward-playing tape of city life, cries and shouts, the barking of a chained dog, car horns, the voices of girls calling out numbers in an obscure tenacious game-sounds of the impoverished city we never visited, all mixed and muted, without sense, carried on a wind from that place.
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