0 Σχόλια
0 Μοιράστηκε
3 Views
0 Προεπισκόπηση
Κατάλογος
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Παρακαλούμε συνδέσου στην Κοινότητά μας για να δηλώσεις τι σου αρέσει, να σχολιάσεις και να μοιραστείς με τους φίλους σου!
-
The Logic of Blood(Variant V-03: Film Noir) The rain in New York didn't wash anything away; it just turned the grime into a mirror, reflecting the neon lies of Times Square. I lived in a walk-up in Hell's Kitchen that smelled of old cabbage and failed dreams. I wasn't a teacher by trade—I was a disgraced logician, a man who could find the flaw in any argument but couldn't find a reason to wake up in the...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1χλμ. Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
The Frost-Fire Academy(Variant V-13: Romanticism) The Aurora Station was a needle of titanium piercing the frozen wasteland of Europa. Outside, the temperature was a lethal minus 160 degrees; inside, it was a fragile bubble of oxygen and desperation. Professor Julian Vance was the station's only educator. He was a man of the Old Earth, a romantic who still believed in the power of a handwritten letter and the beauty...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 190 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
The Golden ExchangeThe ticker tape never stopped talking. That was the first thing Vincent Moretti learned on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange: the machine had opinions, and they came in the form of punched paper ribbons that fell like confetti from the ceiling of a cathedral built for a new god. He was nineteen, Irish-Italian from Hester Street, with ink on his fingers and a photographic memory that made...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 2 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
What the Photographs KeptWhat the Photographs Kept The photograph was the best thing Eleanor had ever shot, and she did not know it was of him until three days later, when she recognized the distinctive blue jacket in a stranger's pile of proofs. It was raining in Brooklyn when she took it. She had been commissioned by a graphic designer to shoot a series called "Urban Solitude"—a photograph of a man sitting alone on...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 2 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
The Last Widow of WhitfieldThe Last Widow of Whitfield Thomas held the clay pot of honey like it was a sacred vessel. He balanced it carefully on the stone wall of the abbey ruins, his small fingers white around the rim. The honey caught the weak Yorkshire sun and turned amber, thick and slow. "Eat it all at once, then," said a voice behind him. Thomas turned. A tall young man sat on the opposite wall of the ruin, a...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
The Woman Who Saw HimThe Woman Who Saw Him The photograph was the best thing Eleanor had ever shot, and she did not know it was Arthur until three days later, when she recognized the distinctive blue jacket in a stranger's pile of proofs. It was raining in Brooklyn when she took it. She had been commissioned by a graphic designer named Arthur to shoot a series called "Urban Solitude"—a photograph of a man sitting...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
The House at Mount VernonThe House at Mount Vernon The heat in June was a living thing. It moved through the cotton fields like a slow animal, pressing down on every blade of grass, every leaf, every person who dared to walk outside without shade. Eleanor Blackwell arrived at the Blackwood house on a Thursday in 1893, carrying a single valise and a recommendation from a missionary society that had taken pity on an...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
RUST AND BONEThe radio was broken. It had been broken for six months. Tony Ferguson knew this because he had tried to fix it three times and failed each time, and each failure was slightly more embarrassing than the last because his father kept asking him about it. "It's just a connection," Tony said the third time, holding the back panel in one hand and a screwdriver in the other, neither of which was...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 3 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
-
The Woman Who Saw HimThe Woman Who Saw Him The photograph was the best thing Eleanor had ever shot, and she did not know it was Arthur until three days later, when she recognized the distinctive blue jacket in a stranger's pile of proofs. It was raining in Brooklyn when she took it. She had been commissioned by a graphic designer named Arthur to shoot a series called "Urban Solitude"—a photograph of a man sitting...0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 4 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)