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Some
things are just too good not to share – especially for writers – especially for
those writing about women. These examples from the Times make me feel much
better.
1)
Her breasts
stuck out straight and true; her little flanks looked delicious.
2)
I even became
somewhat suspicious and critical of her serene, womanly beauty. Or rather, of
the regard in which she seems to hold her eyes, her nose, her throat, her
breasts, her hips, her legs. (Mercifully he stops there.)
3)
Her breasts were
large enough to inspire thoughts of lust, but had the comforting appeal of a
beloved nanny or nurse. (She should have stopped there). Her hips and bum told a
different story – wild nights in dance halls; swing in callipygian glory. (No,
me neither)
4)
Standing there
trying to get the waist of her skirt suit to link at her side, the tops of her
breasts, swollen with untaken milk pushing above her bra, she does have a
plumpness, a fullness that calls to him.
5)
Despite her
round face, the only thing sitting higher than her breasts were her cheekbones.
6)
Tall and lissom,
Dr Brooks moved with the assertive gait of an athlete.
At this point I stopped, there being only six
examples on offer, and thought with some longing of an earlier, more down to
earth age. I talk of the interwar Poet Laureate Peter Cheyney:
‘I think you’re a
mysterious woman. Your breasts are a little flat, but beyond that you’re
dynamite. And that’s what I think.’ The Dark
Street.
Does anyone else have any favourites?
For those curious
about the authors above, the answers can be found after three ‘cleansing’
paintings. Yes, Newport was beautiful once, before the darkness set in. The
magic was always there.
1) Jack Kerouac ‘On
the Road’
2) Philip Roth, ‘The
Professor of Desire’
3) YourFavouriteBlackAuntie,
on Twitter
4) John Updike ‘Rabbit
Run’
5) Vanessa Salkova on
Twitter
6) Dan Brown ‘Inferno’
2 comments:
Out of context they seem like horrid observations. Except maybe #6. I wouldn't mind being called athletic. The rest could end up with knuckle sandwiches--in context, of course. :)
Her knuckles were large enough to inspire thoughts of lust, her thumb a plumpness that called to him. her little finger looked delicious., the whole package pounding his jaw into pulp. :)
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