At the moment the postman rang the bell, Litvinoff's pen has been poised above a blank piece of paper, his eyes watery with revelation, filled with the feeling that he was on the verge o understanding the essence of something. But when the bell rang the thought was lost, and Litvinoff, ordinary again, dragged his feet down the dark hallway and opened the door where the mailman stood in the sunlight.
( Nicole Krauss )
[ The History of Love ]
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