"Miller, Henry - Opus Pistorum" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller Henry)

OPUS PISTORUM
BY
HENRY MILLER

GROVE PRESS, INC./New York

Copyright © 1983 by the Estate of Henry Miller

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the previous written permission of the publisher.

First Hardcover Edition published in 1983

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Miller, Henry, 1891-1980
Opus pistorum.
I. Title.
PS3525.I5454064 1983 813'.52 83-80498
ISBN 0-394-53374-7

Manufactured in the United States of America

GROVE PRESS, INC., 196 West Houston Street, New York, N.Y. 10014

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

CONTENTS

VOLUME I
BOOK I: Sous les Toits de Paris
BOOK II: The French Way
BOOK III: La Rue de Screw

VOLUME II
BOOK I: A Black Mass and a Midget
BOOK II: France in My Pants
BOOK III: Cherchez le Toit

Epilogue by Milton Luboviski

VOLUME I

"Drop your cocks and grab your socks."
--Canterbury.

BOOK I
Sous les Toits de Paris

God knows I've lived in Paris for long enough now that I shouldn't be amazed at anything. You don't have to go deliberately looking for adventures here, the way you do back in New York . . . all that's necessary is to have a little patience and wait, life will seek you out in the most unbelievably obscure places, things happen to you here. But the situation in which I now find myself . . . this pretty thirteen-year-old naked on my lap, her father busy taking down his pants behind a screen in the corner, the buxom young whore sitting on the couch . . . it's as though life were viewed through a distorting glass, recognizable images are seen but discredited.
I've never seen myself as a cradle snatcher . . . those men you watch being hustled away in the public parks, always a bit shabby, a little shaky on their pins, explaining that the child had dust on her dress and they were brushing it off . . . But now I must admit that Marcelle with her hairless little body is exciting me. It's not because she's a child, it's because she's a child with no innocence . . . look into her eyes and you see the monster of knowledge, the shadow of wisdom . . . she lies across my legs and squeezes her naked figlet against my fingers . . . and her eyes mock my hesitance.