The Lolita whose iliac crests had not yet flared, the Lolita that today I could touch and smell and hear and see, the Lolita of the strident voice and rich brown hair-of the bangs and the swirls and the sides and the curls at the back, and the sticky hot neck, and the vulgar vocabulary-"revolting," "super," "luscious," "goon," "drip"-that Lolita, my Lolita, poor Catullus would lose forever.
Jól van?Látni akarom!hunglish hunglish