Save Yourself, Beauty. Edgars Auziņš

the death of philosophy.

      – However, philosophy only does what moves around. There's nothing new here.

      The owner shook his head with his hand and stared intently at the face of a new acquaintance. With real admiration.

      – What's your name?

      – The Leah.

      – Only two syllables, and how beautiful. My sin, my soul, is Li-i: the tip of the tongue makes its way two steps down the sky, to push the teeth on the second. It's me.

      The girl caught her breath from what she said. She tried to answer something, but could not, and the interlocutor was silent. Leah would like to know what he was thinking about at the time, but there was no strength to imagine: she just stared into his foggy eyes.

      – That's… Nabokov? – Leah murmured, vaguely remembering the beginning of the work.

      – That's right. "Lolita". And that's what you read.