Michael Cunningham

Estou amando "By nightfall", novo livro do Cunningham, escritor de "As horas". Trecho da página 22:

"Peter, however, didn´t want to live in basements. He wanted to be a wheeler and dealer (as some would call him), a denizen of the present, though he can´t quite live in the present; he can´t stop himself from mourning some lost world, he couldn´t say which world exactly but someplace that isn´t this, isn´t streetside piles of black garbage bags and shrill little boutiques that come and go. It´s corny, it´s sentimental, he doesn´t talk to people about it, but it feels at certain times - now, for instace - like his most essential aspect: his conviction, in the face of all the evidence to the contrary, that some terrible, blinding beauty is about to descend and, like the wrath of God, suck it all away, orphan us, deliver us, leave us wondering how exactly we´re going to start it all over again."

Estava pensando em cortar uma parte, mas o parágrafo faz tanto sentido assim inteirinho...