Parameter
- 352 Seiten
- 13 Lesestunden
Mehr zum Buch
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.
Buchkauf
Will, Will Self
- Sprache
- Erscheinungsdatum
- 2019
- Einband
- (Paperback),
- Buchzustand
- Gebraucht - Gut
- Preis
- € 17,49
Keiner hat bisher bewertet.
- Titel
- Will
- Sprache
- Englisch
- Autor*innen
- Will Self
- Verlag
- Penguin Books Ltd (UK)
- Erscheinungsdatum
- 2019
- Einband
- Paperback
- Seitenzahl
- 352
- ISBN10
- 0670918628
- ISBN13
- 9780670918621
- Reihe
- Kategorien
- Schlagwörter
- Handbücher und Anleitungen, Geschichten, Britische Literatur, Erinnerungen, 21. Jahrhundert, Drogen, Abhängigkeit, Psychopathologie
- Beschreibung
- 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.