Tuesday, April 26

Done with D.H. Lawrence

It's sullen, sulky, gloomy & melancholic. It's weaved in pain to make you flinch; yet it makes you covet till you are tired of it, but like an inveterate habit, it does not let you leave or set you free; like what she did to Paul. Paul Morel, never sure of what he wanted, what he stood for, could not figure out the maze she had built for him or rather I would say he had built for himself. The undercurrents were there, but never strong and direct, yet he allowed himself to slip totally oblivious to what was at stake.
It's delightful to see the array of words portrayed, the magic they weaved, the tragedy they unfurled, the class they depicted.

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