"It was a desire, an echo, a sound; she could drape it in color, see it in form, hear it in music, but not in words; no, never in words. She sighed, te...
To whom can I expose the urgency of my own passion?…There is nobody—here among these grey arches, and moaning pigeons, and cheerful games and tradition and emulation, all so skilfully organised to prevent feeling alone.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
To whom can I expose the urgency of my own passion?…There is nobody—here among these grey arches, an...
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