Parámetros
- 352 páginas
- 13 horas de lectura
Más información sobre el libro
Will's mother's hokey homily, Waste not, want not . . . hisses in his ears as he oscillates furiously on the spot, havering on the threshold between the bedroom and the dying one . . .all the while cradling the plastic leech of the syringe in the crook of his arm. Oscillating furiously, and, as he'd presses the plunger home a touch more . . . and more, he hears it again and again- Waaaste nooot, waaant nooot . . . ! whooshing into and out of him, while the blackness wells up at the periphery of his vision, and his hackneyed heart begins to beat out weirdly arrhythmic drum fills - even hitting the occasional rim-shot on his resonating rib cage. He waits, paralysed, acutely conscious, that were he simply to press his thumb right home, it'll be a cartoonish death- That's all folks! as the aperture screws shut forever.
Compra de libros
Will, Will Self
- Idioma
- Publicado en
- 2019
- Encuadernación
- (Tapa blanda),
- Estado del libro
- Bueno
- Precio
- 17,49 €
Métodos de pago
Nadie lo ha calificado todavía.
- Título
- Will
- Idioma
- Inglés
- Autores
- Will Self
- Editorial
- Penguin Books Ltd (UK)
- Publicado en
- 2019
- Formato
- Tapa blanda
- Páginas
- 352
- ISBN10
- 0670918628
- ISBN13
- 9780670918621
- Serie
- Categorías
- Etiquetas
- Guías y Manuales, Cuentos, Literatura Británica, Memorias, Siglo XXI, Drogas, Adicción, Psicopatología
- Descripción
- Will's mother's hokey homily, Waste not, want not . . . hisses in his ears as he oscillates furiously on the spot, havering on the threshold between the bedroom and the dying one . . .all the while cradling the plastic leech of the syringe in the crook of his arm. Oscillating furiously, and, as he'd presses the plunger home a touch more . . . and more, he hears it again and again- Waaaste nooot, waaant nooot . . . ! whooshing into and out of him, while the blackness wells up at the periphery of his vision, and his hackneyed heart begins to beat out weirdly arrhythmic drum fills - even hitting the occasional rim-shot on his resonating rib cage. He waits, paralysed, acutely conscious, that were he simply to press his thumb right home, it'll be a cartoonish death- That's all folks! as the aperture screws shut forever.