Saturday, May 07, 2016

First Paragraph

So here I was, home again after all those years. Standing in the main square (which I'd crossed countless times in my childhood, boyhood, and youth), I felt no emotion whatsoever; all I could think was that the flat space, with the spire of the town hall (like a soldier in an ancient helmet) rising above the rooftops, looked like a huge parade ground and that the military past of the Moravian town, once a bastion against Magyar and Turk invaders, had engraved a set of irrevocably hideous features on its face. 

- From The Joke by Milan Kundera


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