Shows some signs of wear, and may have some markings on the inside. Seller Inventory GRP More information about this seller Contact this seller 3. Published by Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt About this Item: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, Ships from the UK. More information about this seller Contact this seller 4. About this Item: Paperback. Condition: Very Good.
The book has been read, but is in excellent condition. Pages are intact and not marred by notes or highlighting. The spine remains undamaged. Seller Inventory GOR More information about this seller Contact this seller 5. About this Item: Condition: New. Seller Inventory n. More information about this seller Contact this seller 6.
About this Item: Condition: As New. Unread copy in perfect condition. More information about this seller Contact this seller 7. Published by edition a GmbH From: medimops Berlin, Germany. About this Item: edition a GmbH, Seller Inventory MX-G.
- Franz Grillparzer?
- The Beijing Family.
- Navigation menu.
- Born of Corruption (Born of Illusion Novella).
- The Bible: Beyond the Impasse.
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Visiting the Snow Queen
Binding, dust jacket if any , etc may also be worn. Seller Inventory MB. More information about this seller Contact this seller 9. Seller Inventory MG. More information about this seller Contact this seller Published by Arsenal Das About this Item: Arsenal Das, Schutzumschlag mit wenigen Gebrauchsspuren an Einband, Schutzumschlag oder Seiten. Seller Inventory MV. Seller Inventory MX-V.
Published by Reclam Verlag. About this Item: Reclam Verlag. Light to moderate shelf wear. Clean pages. Published by Ullstein Taschenbuchvlg. About this Item: Ullstein Taschenbuchvlg. Published by Reclam, Stuttgart From: German Book Center N. Mountaindale, NY, U. About this Item: Reclam, Stuttgart, Mass Market Paperback. Condition: Unused -- but see note. Ungebrauchtes Exemplar. We have 33 copies. Published by Editions du Sagittaire, Paris About this Item: Editions du Sagittaire, Paris, Edition originale.
Collection "Les cahiers nouveaux". Brochage fragile. About this Item: Condition: New. This is a reprint of the original work published in We are professionally publishing these works using the classic text and artwork. The content of this print on demand book has not been changed. The book is printed in black and white.
Illustrations if any are also in black and white. Sewn perfect bound for longer life. Fold-outs if any not included. This is a reprint of a very old book so there might be some imperfections like blurred pages poor images or missing pages which we were not able to remove. If the book is a multi volume set then this is only a single volume. I felt like a child on a Sunday visit to their favourite aunt. An old friend of mine, a woman I went to school with, owns a pastry shop.
I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from grinning even more broadly. I wanted to bury my head in my hands, or hide it behind a forest of rock faces. Now I was truly incapable of focusing on the artworks. Poetism, surrealism and romanticism had receded into the background; all I was interested in was the snow queen, nothing else. I wanted to find out every little detail about her; again and again I wanted to hear about all the minutiae of her life. But how could I ask about things that I knew nothing about? What a pity. She looked at me over the rim of her cup.
I was entirely defenceless and at her mercy. I lifted a cup from the tray too and gingerly had a sip of coffee, as if it were a magic potion with the power to turn stone back into flesh. Surely you know that. Is that what you call me too? When I noticed that even this absurd fantasy managed somehow to turn me on, I decided to distract myself. When I bit into it, my taste buds had an experience that was almost on a par with my erotic experiences thus far, but the cream distributed itself liberally all over my cheeks, and I felt so clumsy and unladylike that I wanted to sink into the parquet floor out of shame.
Küss mich, Libussa by Sophie Strohmeier
The snow queen got up, took two steps towards me and lifted her hand making as if to stroke my hair. But then she handed me a napkin instead. Yes, my friend really does make the best baked goods anywhere. I wiped my mouth while she serenely left the room. She turned back to me in the doorway. I randomly jotted down a few dates and numbers. It was too quiet without the snow queen. She was too far away.
I looked at the ash in her copper ashtray and the cooling coffee left in her cup. The red crescent of her lipstick shone luminous on the rim. I took a sip from the exact spot where her mouth had been. Our mouths touched each other on the other side of the world. I quickly put the cup back in its place. It was getting dark outside; a thick mist was putting the stirrings of spring back to sleep.
The mysterious woman in the picture observed me with a dry, questioning gaze. Breasts and little birds. By the time the snow queen returned, it was pitch-black outside the windows, except for a tiny wisp of blue far off to the left. The green lamp was reflected in the window pane. And suddenly I wanted to be gone from here, far away in a pub, with the fifth pint of the evening in my hand, but I wanted to leave part of me here, as a ghost, to roam this room from now on for all eternity, always on the lookout, forever on the hunt for the queen of its heart.
Her face was dark. With an angry motion she put out her cigarette. Her eyes had lost all their lustre. I noticed that she had taken off her pearl earrings. It was time for me to go, I realised that much. I folded up my piece of paper like a sleepwalker who never wants to wake up. So there you are. I wondered what she had heard on the telephone that had so shaken her. To at least make eye contact somehow, somewhere, I turned to face the oil painting, but the woman in the picture seemed even more forbidding than before.
I stood up and made a show of checking my watch.
Using the tag
Perhaps I should hug my professor goodbye? Was that what one did? She remained silent, her eyes fixed on the table top. From the corner of my eye, I saw my sad face, and took a few steps back to look at myself in the mirror, the way you do in shop windows sometimes to reassure yourself that you exist.
I hesitated for a moment. Then I bent down and picked up the tiny piece of jewellery. I wanted to rush back to lay it at her feet as a loyal page would for his lady. But then my hand closed around the earring as if of its own accord, and slid into my coat pocket.
She touched my back lightly and gently nudged me to the door. I turned around. She held out her hand. My chin was trembling and I felt tears well up in my eyes. I hid my face in her shoulder and tried to make it look as if I had meant to embrace her. In this moment, the moment of the greatest physical closeness to my beloved, I felt watched.
Maybe it was an unexpected movement outside in front of the dark window, maybe it was light reflecting on the wall. It must have been my bad conscience. In pursuit of her queen of hearts, Marie has a series of transformative erotic encounters, closely intertwined with the Czech art and literature she is studying. The novel's prose style draws on the imagery used by the Czech surrealists, while seeking to add to the German literary landscape a more explicit portrayal of desire between women, with Marie as a "queer Casanova.
So much of the queer writing I read is set in the US, so it's pleasing to find a text in which European cultural identity and queer identity converge.