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The Silver Book
Olivia Laing · 2025
<b>'It is dangerous to want someone this much. He has always known it, from the very first night.'</b><br> <br> It is September 1974. Two men meet by chance in Venice. One is a young English artist, in panicked flight from London. The other is Danilo Donati, the magician of Italian cinema, the designer responsible for realising the spectacular visions of Fellini and Pasolini. Donati is in Venice to produce sketches for Fellini's <i>Casanova</i>. A young - and beautiful - apprentice is just what he needs.<br> <br> He sweeps Nicholas to Rome, into the looking-glass world of Cinecitt , the studio where Casanova's Venice will be ingeniously assembled. Then in the spring, the lovers move together to the set of <i>Sal</i> , Pasolini's horrifying fable of fascism.<br> <br> But Nicholas has a secret and in this world of constant illusion, his real nature passes unseen. Amidst the rising tensions of Italy's 'Years of Lead', he acts as an accelerant, setting in motion a tragedy he didn't intend.<br> <br> <i>The Silver Book</i> is at once a queer love story and a noirish thriller, set in the dream factory of cinema. It's a fictional account of real things, and an investigation into the difficult relationship between artifice and truth, illusion and reality, love and power.

Les Annales Du Disque-Monde : La Huitieme Fille
Terry Pratchett · 1998

East of Eden (Penguin Twentieth Century Classics)
John Steinbeck · 1952
Terminé

Joan Didion
commencement address at University of California, Riverside, 1975, titled “Planting a Tree Is Not a Way of Life”

LE HUITIEME SORTILEGE LES ANNALES DU DISQUE MONDE 02 (S F ET FANTASTIQUE)
Terry Pratchett · 1998
Arabic poetry
Should I cry for you or cry for myself Or should I cry for what I lost from my past Or should I cry for a world that has beaten me to death without ever laying its hands هل أبكي عليك أم أبكي على نفسي أم أبكي على ما ضاع من أمسي أم أبكي على دنيا أشبعتني ضربًا دون المسي

Comme un ciel en nous
Jakuta Alikavazovic · 2022
Unknown
Unknown
Le hurlement qui s’échappait de votre bouche s’envolait comme un ballon paresseux.
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L'été des charognes
Sylvain Bordesoules · 2023
