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airmax2009 Eviaggiatore  |
 07/01/2011 10:49:33
 
A wet Sunday in a country inn! Whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation. The rain pattered against the casements; the bells tolled for church with a melancholy sound. I went to the windows in quest of something to amuse the eye; but am seemed as if I had been placed completely out of the reach of all amusement. The windows of my bed-room looked out among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys, while those of my sitting-room commanded a full view of the stable yard. I know of nothing more calculated to make a man sick of this world than a stable yard on a rainy day. The place was littered with wet straw had been kicked about by travelers and stable-boys. In one corner was a stagnant pool of water, surrounding an island of muck; there were several half-drowned fowls crowded together under cart, among which a miserable,crest-fallencock,drenchedoutofalllifeaandspirit;hisdroopingtailwasmatted, as it were, into a single feather, along which the water trickled from his back; near the [url=www.monsterbeats-drdre.com/monster-turbine-c-75.html][U]beats by dre headphones[/U][/url] was a half dozing cow, chewing her cud, and standing patiently to be rained on, with wreaths of vapor rising from her reeking hide; a wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness of a stable, was poking his spectral head out of a window, with the rain dripping on it from the eaves; an unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house hard by, uttered something every now and then between a bark and yelp; a drab of a kitchen wench tramped backwards and forwards through the [url=www.monsterbeats-drdre.com/monster-headphone-c-68.html][U]monster beats by dre[/U][/url] in patterns, looking as sulky as the weather itself; everything, in short, was comfortless and forlorn, excepting a crew of hardened ducks, assembled like boon companions round a puddle and making a riotous noise over their liquor. Norman Crosby sat on a bench in the Park, with his back to strip of bush-planted sward, fenced by the park carriage drive. Hyde Park Corner, with its rattle and hoot of traffic, lay immediately to his right. It was some thirty minutes past six on an early March evening, and dusk had fallen heavily over the [url=www.monsterbeats-drdre.com/monster-beats-c-74.html][U]monster beats[/U][/url], dusk mitigated by some faint moonlight and many street lamps. There was a wide emptiness over road and sidewalk, and yet there were many unconsidered figures moving silently through the half-light or dotted unobtrusively on bench and chair, scarcely to be distinguished from the shadowed gloom in which they sat. The scene pleased Gatsby and harmonized with his present mood. Dusk, to his mind, was the hour of the [url=www.monsterbeats-drdre.com/][U]beats by dre[/U][/url]. Men and women, who had fought and lost, who hid their fallen fortunes and dead hopes as far as possible form the scrutiny of the curious, came forth in this hour of gloaming, when their shabby clothes and bowed shoulders and unhappy eyes might pass unnoticed, or, at any rate, unrecognized. The wanderers in the dusk did not choose to have strange looks fasten on them, therefore they out in this bat-fashion, taking their pleasure sadly in a pleasure-emptied of its rightful occupants. |
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