Ладошки, у меня РАНЧИК РОДИЛСЯ! :-)
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Уважаемые давние поклонники и посетители Ладошек!
Я запускаю коммьюнити-сайт, новый проект, а вы все, будучи
https://www.facebook.com/run4iq
Бег для интеллектуалов.
Бег для интеллекта.
Бег "за" интеллектом. Он сам не придёт ;-)
Ранчик родился!
Андрей AKA Andrew Nugged
Ладошки служат как архив программ для Palm OS и Poclet PC / Windows Mobile
и разрешённых книг с 15 окрября 2000 года.
Курт Воннегут — один из самых известных американских прозаиков XX века, автор многочисленных романов («Сирены Титана», «Колыбель для кошки», «Бойня номер пять», «Галапагос», «Мать Тьма» и другие), рассказов, эссе, пьес. В его произведениях острая сюжетность сочетается с фантастикой и гротеском, а буйный полет воображения со злой иронией и откровенной сатирой.
отрывок из произведения:
...They had grown up next door to each other, on the fringe of a city, near fields and woods and orchards, within sight of a lovely bell tower that belonged to a school for the blind.
Now they were twenty, had not seen each other for nearly a year. There had always ben playful, comfortable warmth between them, but never any talk of love.
His name was Newt. Her name was Catharine. In the early afternoon, Newt knocked on Catharine's front door.
Catharine came to the door. She was carrying a fat, glossy magazine she had been reading. The magazine was devoted entirely to brides. «Newt!» she said. She was surprised to see him.
«Could you come for a walk?» he said. He was a shy person, even with Catharine. He covered his shyness by speaking absently as though what really concerned him were far away-as though he were a secret agent pausing briefly on a mission between beautiful, distant, and sinister points. This manner of speaking had always been Newt's style, even in matters that concerned him desperately.
«A walk?» said Catharine.
«One foot in front of the other,» said Newt, «through leaves, over bridges--»
«I had no idea you were in town,» she said.
«Just this minute got in,» he said.
«Still in the Army, I see,» she said.
«Seven months more to go,» he said. He was a private first class in the Artillery. His uniform was rumpled. His shoes were dusty. He needed a shave. He held out his hand for the magazine. «Let's see the pretty book,» he said.
She gave it to him. «I'm getting married, Newt,» she said.