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Quote by Svetlana Alexievich

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Voices from Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster

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Svetlana Alexievich

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“- Entonces la respuesta es No - dijo el ruso, acomodándose triunfante, en el sillón. ¡Si hubiera estado realmente enamorada, lo sabría! No importa si el amor ya no está. Si se perdió. Incluso si ese amor la dañó de un modo irreparable. El amor, Daniela, el Amor con mayúscula, deja una marca en nosotros imposible de borrar. Impacta en el alma de forma tal que ya nada es igual. Hay un antes y un después de ese amor. Y nada vuelve a ser lo mismo. Es nacer de nuevo. Y es morir de nuevo.”

“He looked back at Eve, holding out his hand. "Come on, then." She looked between him and his hand, pressing her lips together, but not moving. He frowned. "Eve." She inhaled and took his hand, awkwardly inching toward him without a sound. "Brave lass," Asa purred. He caught her other hand, ignoring her flinch, and pulled her into his arms. What a small thing she was! She might be tall, but Eve's body was as light as a bird's. He could feel the delicate bones of her shoulder, the slender span of her waist, and he thanked God that she'd not been crushed by the planks falling on her.”

“She heard the door close as she examined the dog. "You're looking much better," she told the animal. "Good enough that Jean-Marie might be able to take you outside to wash you. Oh, don't get up." This last was said nervously as the dog climbed laboriously to his feet. "Really, you shouldn't." Eve watched wide-eyed as the animal staggered toward her. "Sit back down, 'please,'" she said, arms raised, but the animal either didn't know what an order was or ignored hers. He walked unsteadily right to her as Eve glanced wildly toward the closed door, hoping that Jean-Marie would make a sudden, early reappearance. And then the animal laid his big head on her knees. "Oh," she said, for she had no idea what else to do. The dog was 'looking' at her with huge brown eyes, his forehead wrinkled up as though he was worried. His enormous drooping jowls were spread like a messy black skirt upon her lap, and the animal's triangular ears were back. Actually it was rather adorable. Hesitantly Eve laid her palm very gently on the beast's head. Slowly the dog's tail swayed back and forth, and he gave a great sigh.”

“Then he began plucking the pins from her hair, carefully, without touching her anywhere else, and Eve began to wonder if 'hair' could possibly be erotic. She found herself holding her breath, listening to his deep, even exhalations as he worked, her hair loosening and beginning to slide. It fell all at once, uncoiling heavily over her shoulders. She turned her head to look at him, suddenly shy. He was staring at her hair. "It's beautiful," he murmured, burying his fingers in the long tresses, gently working apart the strands, lifting and spreading them. "Like liquid gold." He suddenly lifted the mass to his face. "And perfumed. Like flowers." "Lily of the valley." He made her feel exotic, still dressed in her sensible gray frock, only her hair loose about her shoulders. "Lily of the valley," he murmured. "I'll remember that scent forever now, and whenever I smell it again I'll think of you, Eve Dinwoody. You'll be haunting my tomorrows evermore." She gasped and turned, looking up at him. She'd thought that he'd be smiling teasingly at his words, but he looked quite serious and she stared at him in wonder. Had he always carried this part of himself inside? This wild poetic lover? If so, he'd hidden it well underneath the aggressive, foulmouthed theater manager. She had a secret fondness for the crass theater manager, but the poet... She swallowed, suddenly nervous. She might come to love a wild poet.”