Chapter 11 chapter Ten

Now, in tracing all that happened afterwards, the reader should bear in mind not only the broad line sketched above, the many branch roads, the diversions taken by the traveler, and the inadvertent repetitions and the deviations in panic; Remembering our travels, far from being a weary pleasure, was a difficult, twisted teleological evolution whose only raison d'être (these old French words were the omen) was by kiss after kiss, making my The partner always maintains a passable state of mind. Flipping through that well-worn travel book, I vaguely remembered "Magnolia Park" which a certain southern state forced me to spend four dollars; the advertisement in the book said that there should be three reasons to visit this place: because John Gao Sworthy (the dead writer) thought it the most beautiful garden in the world; because the Baedeker's Guide of 1900 had starred it; and finally, because... oh, Readers, my readers, guess what? ...for the child (my Lolita must not be a child!) "walks reverently through the aisles of heaven, sips the fountain of life." But "it does not belong to me," grim Lolita Said, sitting on a bench with two Sunday papers spread across her lovely laps.

We've been to every American roadside eatery, from the sleazy "snack" place with the deer's head (with a dark tear duct in the inner corner of the eye) hanging, filled with "humorously drawn postcards, checks from customers stuck in needles, lifesavers , sunglasses, an advertiser painting a heavenly sundae, a half chocolate cake under the glass, a few experienced and scary flies zigzag around the sticky syrup on the sleazy counter; all the way to the expensive Diner, with soft lighting, low-grade tablecloths, dumb waiters (ex-offenders or college students), color photos of a screen actress with a colorful back and her male partner's black eyebrows, and wearing a A men's band with triangular costumes and all holding small trumpets.

We went to a certain cave to visit the largest stalagmite in the world, and the three southeastern states are holding family gatherings in the cave; entrance fees are set according to age; one yuan for adults, six cents for children. A granite obelisk records the historical facts of the "Blue Sniper War". There are old bones and Indian pottery in the museum next to it. Lowe paid a dime for it, which is very fair.The log cabin in front of you is a bold simulation of Lincoln's birthplace.This large, moth-eaten cobblestone is a memorial to the author of "The Woodlands" (we've been near Poplar, North Carolina, to the point where my kind, generous, and often terribly restrained The guidebook indignantly called it "an extremely narrow and poorly maintained trail", although I agree with this statement, although not Kerma).I rented a motorboat and it was driven by a cool but handsome white Russian of some age, a baron who was told (Lo's hands were wet, little fool) who knew good old Mark well in California Simovic and Valeria; we could make out by boat the off-limits "millionaire colony" on an island off the coast of Georgia.Later, while visiting a postcard collection of European Hotel in a museum in a resort in Mississippi, I found my father's color photo of the Mirana Hotel, which filled me with a wave of pride, its striped awning, its Flags fly from the manicured palm trees. "What's this?" Luo said, squinting at the purple-brown-faced owner of a limousine, he walked into the "collection hall" one after another.Remnants of the Cotton Period.Arkansas woods, and, on her brown shoulders, a purple-pink scar (credit to the mosquitoes).I pinch off the beautiful, transparent poison with my long pointed nails, and suck them until I have swallowed her fragrant blood.

The travel book says that the side of Bourbon Street (in the town called New Orleans) is "always (I like "always") entertained by children who tend (I even prefer "often") to dance Tap-dancing for a few pennies" (what a joy), and "innumerable little private nightclubs always full of customers" (inappropriate).And the Tales of the Wasteland collection.Houses with iron lattice shed balconies and handmade stairs before the American Civil War. In movies, ladies often wear sun-filled shawls and hold the swirling lotus leaf skirts in a unique way with two small hands. Mottled and rotten natural color rushes down this kind of stairs, and there is often a loyal black servant shaking his head on the top of the building.The Menninger Foundation is a psychiatric hospital, which is a hell of a place.A piece of very beautiful soil that has been eroded by the wind; the core of the orchid is so pure and soft, but it attracts white flies to crawl leisurely, which is disgusting.Independence, Missouri, is the starting point of the "Oregon Trail."Abilene, Kansas is home to the Wild Sparrow Rodeo.There are mountains in the distance and mountains in the near.Mountains piled on top of each other; I have never seen the light blue beauty clearly, and after one mountain after another, there are human footprints; in the southeast, there are many mountains and mountains; skyscraper gray stone monuments covered with snow veins, continuous peaks at the turn of the highway Suddenly, the deep forest array completely overlaps the neat dark black fir trees, and is cut off by the soft white smoke of the poplar trees; the combination of pink and lavender belongs to pharaohs and phallic worship, " Too prehistoric to say anything" (feeling numb Lo); hills of black lava; hills in early spring, all along their backs covered in the fine hair of young elephants, - hills in late summer, all hunchbacked, they Heavy Egyptian limbs folded in tawny terrycloth; Oatmeal Hills, dotted with green rafters; and lastly, a Red Hill, with a lush clover at its foot.

We also visited: Little Iceberg Lake, in the Carolinas, and its snowbanks, clusters of small alpine flowers, and lots of snow; She slid down, screaming all the way, and then she was snowballed by a few young people, and she responded to them in the same way.Fields of flaming poplars, a species of spiky blue flowers.A scenic trip with various projects.Hundreds of scenic trips, thousands of "Xiongxing Creek", "Soda Spring", and "Painted Canyon".Texas, a plain that is uncultivated due to long-term drought. The Crystal Palace in the longest cave in the world, free for children under the age of twelve, Luo was completely fascinated by it.An exhibition of homemade sculptures by local women, closed on a gloomy Monday morning, full of dust, sand, and barren land. "Imagination Park" is located in a small town on the Mexican border, but I didn't dare to walk through the city.In the dusk there are hundreds of gloomy birds humming and crooning, groping the tender necks of shadowy flowers.Shakespeare is located in a devil city in western Mexico, where the Russian villain Bill was hanged seventy years ago.hatchery.Cliff Residence.A Child's Motherly Love (Florence Bee's Indian contemporary).Heck, the twentieth canyon we've come across.We entered the fifteenth gate of a certain place, and by now the cover of the travel book had disappeared.My groin throbbed.It was always the same three old men, wearing straw hats and overalls, spending their summer afternoons under the trees by the public fountain.There's a bright blue light beyond the fence of a mountain pass, and the back of a home enjoying the pass (Lo, hot, happy, rough, tense, hopeful, hopeless whispers -- "Look, Michaelis Look, Mr. and Mrs. Turl, let's talk to them, please"--let's talk to them, reader!--"please, I'll do whatever you want me to do, oh please..." ) The ritual dance of the Indians has become completely commercialized.Art: American Refrigerator Shipping Federation.Impressive Arizona, an Indian village in the southwest, the indigenous people's paintings and characters depict a dinosaur in a desert canyon. The drawing time was 30 million years ago, when I was a child.A skinny boy six feet tall, holding an Adam's apple, offered to ogle at Lo and her bare orange-brown waist, Jack, where I later kissed her for five minutes.It is already winter in the desert, but it is still spring at the foot of the mountain, and the apricot blossoms are blooming.Laylow, a dreary town in Nevada, says its nightlife is "cosmopolitan and grown-up."

There's a distillery in California, and even the church there is built to look like wine barrels. death valley.Scott's castle.Artwork collected by a couple of Rogers over the years.Pretty actress ugly villa. R． L．Stevenson's footprints on an extinct volcano.Missing Dolores: What a title.Sand and stone flower carvings carved by waves.A man collapsed on the ground in Russian Canyons National Park after a sudden seizure.Blue, blue "crater lake".A fish hatchery and state penitentiary in Idaho.The gloomy Yellowstone Park, colorful and hot spring.Mountain geysers, rainbows of boiling earth -- are symbols of my affection.A herd of antelope in a wild hideout.The hundredth big cave we encountered cost one yuan for adults and five cents for Lolita.A French Marquis estate in North Dakota."Corn Palace" in South Dakota; a giant statue of the president carved into the granite tower. "The Lady with the Beard" will never be alone again when she hears our clinking footsteps.At a zoo in Indiana, hordes of monkeys live on a concrete replica of Christopher Columbus's flagship.Along the desolate beach, in every window that showed a figure eating, there were millions of dead or half-dead flies reeking of blood.From the "Sheboygan City" ferry, you can see the plump seagulls standing on the boulders, and the brown cooking smoke in the city, like wool wadding, engulfs and infiltrates the green shade cast on the sapphire-colored lake.There is a motel whose ventilation pipes run through the bottom of the city sewer.

Lincoln's home, all replicas, has a drawing room lined with books and period furniture that most visitors believe devoutly to be private property. We've had fights, minor and major.The largest several occurred at "Lace Log House" in Virginia; "Park Street" near a school in the Rocky Mountains; "Milner Hill Drive" at 10,759 feet in Colorado; Seventh Street in Phoenix, Arizona and Main Street; Third Street in Los Angeles, because movie theaters and such are sold out; a motel in Utah called Poplar Shade, where six young trees in growth are almost bigger than my Lori The tower is still high, she asks out of nowhere, I don't think we'll ever last as long as normal people living in stuffy cabins like this, doing ugly things together; our quarrels still happen on North Broadway, Burns, Oregon, Western Washington, and en route to the Safeway store.It also happened in a small town in Sun Valley, Idaho, where there is a brick tower hotel. Its facade is very harmonious with red and white bricks. On the opposite side, there is a poplar tree. "Student list" notice is strictly covered.

Still in a majestic coppice moor between "Pine Hollow" and "Farson".Somewhere in Nebraska, on Main Street, near the First National Bank established in 1888, from where the railroad can be seen across the streetscape and the white plumbing of the multiple hay cellars beyond the railroad line.The altercation also took place on McEwan Street, at the corner of Wheaton Avenue, in a Michigan town named after Michigan. We meet some peculiar roadsiders, the "hitchhikers," the scientific Thumb Man, and a host of subhumans and shapes: the humble soldier, the Hispanic, waiting quietly, deliberately smuggling the yellow Stretched khakis; schoolboy wishing to walk two streets; murderer wishing to walk two thousand miles; mysterious, neurotic, elderly gentleman with brand new suitcase and trim an upbeat Mexican in a trio; a college student proudly showing off the grime of his vacation outdoors, as if showing off his prestigious university badge on the front of his sweater; the exhausted, desperate woman; The clean-shaven, oily-haired, hopeful little white face is wearing a baggy shirt and smock, exaggeratedly and sexyly sticking out a thick thumb to seduce a lonely woman or an eager but useless businessman.

"Let's take him," when some particularly disgusting thumbs, some guy my age, shoulders the same width as me, with a face that hasn't been on screen get left behind by our car, In fact, she dropped in with us again, Mr. Luo begged so and rubbed her knees habitually. Oh, I must keep an eye on Luo, this delicate little Luo!Perhaps because of her love-making practice, although her appearance is still full of childishness, her overflowing expression has seduced gas station workers, hotel bellboys, vacationers, villains in luxury cars, and blue ponds. The unattended imbecile's bouts of lust that must tickle the itch of my pride if it doesn't arouse my jealousy.

Because Lo knew that light about her so well, I had to catch her eyeballing with some gentle gentleman or some oily monkey with a tough brown arm and a watch on his wrist all the time, often as soon as I turned and walked away. When I went to buy lollipops for her, I heard her and the beautiful mechanic sing a beautiful and playful love song. When we stay longer, after a strenuous morning bed workout, I always relax and allow her out of the kindness I'm trying to sleep peacefully in - doting Heng! --Going to the rose garden or the children's library across the road with the modest little Mary next door to the motel and Mary's eight-year-old brother, Lo always came back an hour later, followed by the barefoot Mary far behind, and the little boy Instead, it transformed into two ugly, lanky, blond-haired upperclassmen, both muscular and gonorrhea.The reader may well imagine my answer to my pet when she asked me -- very hesitantly, I admit -- if she could go to the roller rink with Cal and Al.

I remember the first time, one dusty afternoon, I sent her to one of those skating rinks.She said coldly that it would be no fun if I followed, because only teenagers deserve to enjoy that kind of time.We argued and came to an agreement: I stayed in the car, among the other (empty) cars facing the canvas-topped outdoor skating rink.There were fifty young men, mostly in pairs, gliding endlessly to the sound of mechanical music; the wind gave the trees a silver halo.Dolly wore blue jeans and white high-tops, like most girls.I've been staring at the spinning skating crowd - suddenly; she's gone.When she slid out again, there were three little hooligans with her. When these people came in from the outside, I heard them analyze the skater girl for a moment - and laughed at the one who ended up wearing red shorts instead of those jeans and slacks A cute little thing with slender legs. At a highway checkpoint entering Arizona or California, a policeman's nephew peers at us with such dignity that my poor heart trembles. "Sweet?" he'd ask, and my sweet little fool would giggle every time.My optic nerves were fluttering along the way, but I still fantasized about Lo on a horse, which is part of the itinerary: Lo rolling up and down the promenade, an old female knight in front, a lewd redneck ranch tour The manager was behind; I followed him, hating his fat back in flowered shirts even more than a motorbike driver hated a slow-moving truck on a mountain road.Or at the skier's hotel, I saw her float away from me in a chair lift, as if floating to heaven, all alone, rising and rising, to the top of the flying light, the rope tied to the waist The gymnast was there, laughing, waiting for her, waiting for her. No matter which city we arrived in, I always asked in my polite European manner where the swimming pools, museums, and local schools were, how many students were in the nearest school, etc.; (I discovered this twitchy nerve because Grim Lo was the first to make fun of it) Parked in a strategic spot for seeing the kids from school, with my erratic schoolgirl in my car Around - it's always a beautiful sight.This quickly bored Lolita, who is extremely bored, with her childish lack of sympathy for other people's sudden whims, and her constant insulting me, deliberately wearing green clothes in front of the blue-eyed little girl in blue shorts. Snakes in open jackets and blond, tomboyish girls in faded slacks insulted my desire to be petted me as they walked by in the sun. As a compromise, I generously suggested that she use the pool with other girls whenever and wherever possible.She loves the brilliant water and is an excellent diver.After pretending to be submerged, I sat in the rich afternoon shade, covered with something comfortably, with a book or a bag of candy, or both, or nothing but my excitatory glands, and watched her dance. , watching her in her rubber cap, beaded, sun-smooth, and happy as advertised, in her form-fitting satin trunks and elasticated bra.Teenage sweetheart!She's mine, mine, mine, and how proudly I should marvel at that, and go over the last few mornings of the dove's dizziness to groan, and then plan for the next morning; I squint to compare Lolita with any nymphet gathered around her, ready for my selective feast and judgment; today, laying my hand on my troubled heart, I Sworn never thought any of them were better than her, or better than her, two or three times at most, with a certain light, with a certain fragrance in the air--once a pale Spanish child , once was a thick-jawed noble daughter, and the other time - I was rambling. Naturally, I had to be constantly on the alert, for sane jealousy made me see the danger of those running and screaming children.I only have to go away for a moment—say, to walk a few steps back to see if everything is in order in our hut after the bed sheets were changed in the morning—Lo and "Biehold", and when I return, I find the former's two absent-minded Eyes, her two long-toed feet are dipping in the water, kicking the stone under her; to the left and right of her, there must be squatting a brown-skinned teenager, Lolita's auburn beauty and her The little drops of water glistening in the creases of his belly must have made him hunched over -- oh, Baudelaire -- to dream of the next few months. I tried to teach her to play tennis, perhaps that way we might have more amusement together; but I found that although I was a good player in my youth, I was hopeless as a teacher now; so, in California, I let her A few expensive lessons with a well-known coach, along with a broad, wrinkled old timekeeper, and the wife of a male player; A broken boat, but in class, when the frequent fights started, he kept smashing vigorously, as if drawing a beautiful spring flower, and then bounced the ball back to his students with a local sound, that kind of power and agility that was completely divine. I recalled that I had seen him beat the great Gauber at Cannes thirty years ago. Until she started taking lessons, I thought she would never learn the sport.I trained her in the empty fields of various hotels; I fed ball after ball to happy, innocent, fragrant Annabelle in the blazing wind, in the sun-blown dust, and when the body was tired and unwell. (Glittering necklaces, creased white dresses, black velvet headbands), I tried to recreate the past.My tireless lectures only swelled Lo's morose temper.Oddly enough, for our game--the formless approximation of tennis--she'd rather do more ball hunting than actually play--there's a slender, wondrous beauty about the left-wing angels of her day.As a helpful spectator, I would walk up to the little girl opposite, touch her upper arm, hold her bony wrist, while I would inhale her vaguely musky scent and push her cool buttocks. , to demonstrate her backhand stroke posture. At this time, Lo poked the racket on the ground like a cripple's crutch, let her sun-drenched brown curly hair hang down in front of her face, leaned over and let out a loud "yo" in disgust at my intrusion.I had to leave them and let them move freely, compare their bodies in motion, and look at a silk scarf around my neck from time to time; this is in southern Arizona, I think--sun warm, lazy, nasty Lo She often slams at the ball, and yells when she finds time. When she is desperate, she swings the racket as if threatening someone, just revealing the wet and glistening hair under her entrails; Defensively ran to chase the ball, but got nothing; but the two still enjoyed it happily, reporting the score of their clumsy behavior continuously and accurately with clear and bright voices. I remember one day I proposed to go back to the hotel to get them some cold drinks and walked on the gravel road. When I came back, I brought two big glasses of pineapple juice, soda and ice cubes; when I saw that the tennis court was empty, I felt weak A sudden sensation in my chest made it impossible for me to move.I stooped to put the glass on the bench, and for some reason, I seemed to see the cold and vivid face of Charlotte when I died. I looked around, only to find that Luo was wearing white shorts, walking from the garden path through the mottled shade. Walking down, she was accompanied by a tall man with two rackets in his hands.I ran after them, but just as I was running through the bushes, the situation changed suddenly, as if the order of life had suddenly derailed, and I saw Lo, in slacks, and her ball mate in shorts. Wandering in the small patch of weeds with his head down, he fiddled with the thorns with a tennis racket, looking for the ball he lost just now. I cite these happy events mainly to support my contention that I did my best to give my Lolita a truly wonderful time.How satisfying it was to watch her as a child show off a certain skill of hers to other children, such as a unique way of skipping rope.Her right hand grasped the back of her left hand and put it on her unexposed back. This little elf, this transparent obedient, was absorbed in it, just like the colorful sun with peacock feathers is absorbed in the broken flowers under the flowering tree. and in a visual paradise, my freckled, wanton lover is bouncing briskly, repeating the many others I've coveted on sun-drenched, watered-and-smelling sidewalks and old European embankments action done.After a while she would hand the rope back to her little Spanish friend, and it would be her turn to watch and repeat, throwing back hair from her forehead, wrapping her arms around one foot, or placing her hands loosely on her unprotruded on my buttocks, I'm secretly glad that the damn guy finally cleaned our carriage; then, I flashed a smile at my princess's timid black-haired girl, and pressed my fatherly fingers deep into the back from behind. Inserting Lo's hair and holding her bare neck tenderly but firmly, I'm taking my reluctant pet back to our cabin for a quick sex before dinner. "Whose cat caught you, poor?" a buxom, fresh, pretty girl--to whom I am particularly attracted--would have asked me, perhaps, in the interludes of the "hotel"; Luo promised that there would always be a dance after such a meal.This is one of the reasons I always try to get as far away from people as possible; Lo, on the other hand, pulls out all the stops to attract anyone who can testify to the trajectory of his life. Figuratively, she's wagging her little tail, everything behind her, like a vixen in fact - some grinning stranger accosts us, sparking a smart conversation with license plate comparison studies . "It's a long way from home!" Curious parents, so that they could question me from Lo, always suggested that she go to the movies with their children.Some situations are simply too short.A cascade of rumors naturally followed us from hotel to hotel.I didn't realize how thin the walls of the hotel were until one night, when a rough cough from my neighbor filled the intermission after I made love too loudly, his voice was so clear, I thought my It must be; the next day, I'm having breakfast at the dairy (Lo is a sleeper, I'd love to bring a pot of hot coffee to her while she's still in the trap), and the neighbor the night before, an old fool , with a pair of plain glasses on his long and clean nose, and a conference representative badge on the lapel of his suit, somehow he chatted with me in a hurry, and asked me if my wife was like his wife, and she was not so excited to leave the farmland ; I pushed back the switch and replied, thank God, I'm a widower.I escaped this terrible danger; if it hadn't nearly suffocated me, I should have admired the queer surprise on his thin-lipped, weather-beaten face.How sweet it was to bring her coffee and then refuse to give it to her unless she finished her morning tasks.I was such a thoughtful friend, such a loving father, such an excellent pediatrician who took care of everything my auburn skin, auburn eyes, auburn haired little body needed!My only grudge is that I can't take out my Lolita's heart, can't stretch my greedy lips to her tender womb, her secret heart, her gorgeous liver, her sargassum lungs, her double Petal cute buttocks.On particularly hot afternoons, in the room suffocating with the smell of siesta, I like the leather of the armchair to cool my naked body, and I hold her on my lap.She was a typical child at this time, absorbed in the entertainment section of the newspaper, and indifferent to my impulses, as if she was sitting on a shoe, a doll, and a tennis racket handle, so tired and restless. Also do not move.Her eyes follow the adventures of her favorite nude figures: a thinly drawn Miss Dee Dee with high cheekbones; awkward poses; I'm glad I'm not taking pleasure in her; she carefully studies two cars colliding head-on she never wondered what tricks the location, time, and setting of the adverts of bare-bottomed beauties played; and she was insanely obsessed with pictures of brides in full wedding gowns, bouquets, and glasses. A fly hovers near her navel, or explores her soft, pale areola.She tries to grab it with her hands (Charlotte's method), then concentrates on the "Let's Check Your Intelligence" column again. "Let's check your intelligence. Would sex crimes decrease if children obeyed a few commandments? Don't play around public restrooms. Don't take candy from strangers or give them rides. If you do, note the license plate Number." "...take note of the candy label," I snapped. She read on, her cheek (withdrawing) against mine (closed); it's a beautiful day, remember, O reader! "We," I said playfully, "medieval sailors, put in this bottle—" "If," she repeated, "you don't have a pencil, but are old enough to read and write—this is the Means the guy, doesn't you, you idiot - a pipe carving numbers on the side of the road." "Use your little paws, Lolita."