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“Cold has a thousand shapes and a thousand ways of moving in the world: on the sea it gallops like a troop of horses, on the countryside it falls like a swarm of locusts, in the cities like a knife-blade it slashes and the streets and penetrates the chinks of unheated houses.”
― Marcovaldo
― Marcovaldo
“But in this vertical city, in this compressed city where all voids tend to fill up and every block of cement tends to mingle with other blocks of cement, a kind of counter-city opens, a negative city, that consists of empty slices between wall and wall, and of the minimal distances ordained by the building regulations between two constructions, between the rear of one construction and the rear of the next; it is a city of cavities, wells, air conduits, driveways, inner yards, accesses to basements, like a network of dry canals on a planet of stucco and tar, and it is through this network, grazing the walls, that the ancient cat population still scurries.”
― Marcovaldo
― Marcovaldo
“And the city seemed smaller, collected in a luminous vessel, buried in the dark heart of a forest, among the age-old trunks of the chestnut trees and an endless cloak of snow. Somewhere in the darkness the howl of the wolf was heard; the hares had a hole buried in the snow, in the warm red earth under a layer of chestnut burrs.”
― Marcovaldo
― Marcovaldo
“A roof covered with corrugated iron sloped down, oblique, and ended at the void, in the opaque nothingness of the fog.”
― Marcovaldo
― Marcovaldo
“The tree was gone: there was only a thin stick, from which extended a monstrance of bare stems, and one last yellow leaf at the top still. In the light of the rainbow everything else seemed black: the people on the sidewalks, the façades of the houses that served as backdrop; and over this black, in midair, the golden leaves twirled, shining, hundreds of them; and hundreds of hands, red and pink, rose from the darkness to grab them; and the wind lifted the golden leaves towards the rainbow there at the end of the street, and the hands, and the shouts; and it detached even the last leaf, which turned from yellow to orange, then red, violet, green, then yellow again, and then vanished.”
― Marcovaldo
― Marcovaldo
Braden’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Braden’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
71 books
|
17 friends
294 books
|
10 friends
1,314 books
|
29 friends
153 books
|
24 friends
36 books
|
8 friends
377 books
|
10 friends
0 books
|
4 friends
164 books
|
10 friends
More friends…
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