/lit/ - Literature

>>2453147
Project Blinkenlights - Arcade in BNF

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=76036627840418843

Pic related, there's a garden inside the library.

>>2453139
The BNF is located on the riverbanks of the Seine in the 13th District of Paris.

>>2453127

BNF Interior - Classic 7O's architecture

Bibliothèque Nationale de France - François Mitterand , Paris

Bibliothèque Sainte Geneviève, Paris

Saving this thread from the eternities of nothingness.

>>2451391

Do you want to have an epistolary exchange with a lonely fellow?

> Select first three fiction books from your library
> Write one book scenario based on plot mixing from the three selected.
> Rate/Rewrite other's.

I shall begin :

> Bilbo the Hobbit, Tolkien
> The Plague, Camus
> The Horla, Maupassant

Book title :

A young journalist is reporting on a plague epidemy putrefacting the city. He investigates upon the nature of the disease, and is infected during this process. He experiences a downward spiral of madness in which he fantasizes about discovering an old dragon living in the water epuration canals under the city, being the cause of spreading the middle aged disease. In a final straw of terror, the detached personality of the dragon he created in his mind immolates himself in his house.

> favorite genre, sub-genre of litterature
> favorite entry level book of said genre
> favorite major level book of said genre
> define with one literary technique, figure of speech the said genre in a sentence

OP here, I'm back.
Did anyone take the time to read this?
It's a celtic science fiction in space.
It's only a beginning, but I hope you could give an insight or advice on the style of this incipit.

I'm tired of uploading, forsaking field limit.
Here is an url of the following of the novel.
Please feel free to criticize.
thank you.

http://shorttext.com/iK7k74W

They rose and went into a deep contemplation toward my direction. Their eyes seemed to contemplate the abyss of night meditation, as they circled me a few steps away.

I recognized in their eyes full of gentle questioning of fraternal concern. Staggering like a fawn on my legs weak and trembling, I began to plead with them my salvation.

They were of indeterminate age, their faces carved marble like waves on a lake, like a trembling flame wrinkles veinal blood pulsing through their dry and flat. They were dressed in a linen cloth, their beards long and shaggy, white tumultuous seas seemed to drown their face in their own contemplation.

I was seized with a fear stirred at the sight of these creatures, thought to sink into madness, duplicating my own minds to infinite realistic reflections of my flesh, and yet I did not seem to understand my own presence among them. They seemed to know me, looked at me, calling me with one voice by a word that seemed destined.

My forehead seemed burdened by revulsion striking, and embarrassment of my whole being radiated. I saw men sitting in a circle in the grass.

I then lost consciousness, my violent neurosis disguising themselves as white silhouettes advancing stealthily towards my direction, gliding through the mist, ghostly apparitions of dévaine my own, I was trying to give up their secret business and screaming all my pain in a squeaky and desperate sob, whose echo resounds in the plain, and reverberated in my head too full of painful radiation. When I regained consciousness, I was curled up on myself, arms clutching my knees against my chest, prostrate in his, salivating lips a bitter rejection of mud and grass.

Some perceive my spirit and my fear uncertainty, steeped in the blackness of the night, I knew lost and I tried to reason my madness raging furiously this desperate condition. Me falling on his knees, imploring the death of myself sweet, I grabbed handfuls of fresh earth. I thrust my face in the grass and sniffed, panicked peppery scent of wild mint when my last burst of courage prompted me to raise their heads toward heaven, to observe the stars one last time and the timeless glamor.

The hill where I stood was strewn with a large hedge of tall grass and the wind in my back to the plains to fallow on the horizon. While I was digging in my eyes the dark while probing my soul searching for answers regarding my condition, I felt a heavy presence in my heart, where the growing fear and irrational burned my brain, before tackling the rhythm accelerated my heart to deprive me of all energy, although the instinct seized me by the throat dictated to me in strong lines to escape quickly.

Then I lifted my eyes to the landscape around me. I was then at the upstream of a fairly large and broad hill, overlooking a vast clearing. I thought I recognized at some distance from the forest where I was born, but only by some young foliage that reminded me of the trees often met during my journey insiders. I heard the distant sound of a river, and its murmur seemed to indicate that my position was not very different from where I had left in my sleep.

Missing two molars in my teeth decayed and whose gums were almost deserted to the root, and my tongue to my palate rapper gave the impression of an arid carpet of grass burned. My hair was shoulder-long, filamentous and curly, gray and a 'spread over my chest bone in large silver streaks. Taken with horror at the sight of my decrepitude so advanced, I wondered aloud what kind of magic I had pulled out of my youth, and if I had not traveled outside of time and death, before regaining consciousness in the body.

my cheekbones were protruding past health Desormes of apples round bone, piercing through the thin skin dry and rough, and my pronounced lower jaw seemed to have been moved from its cavity, and leaning slightly forward.

My eyes are cellared with my furrowed brow and the bridge of my nose long and oversized nostrils, like sucking air at high loads. My lips were stretched in a smile closed, thin patches of flesh-pink to purplish skin chapped,

I then realized that the intense pain and heavy that grabbed me was none other than the weight of even a fight for life almost gone, and my continued efforts were needed for the growing of my small but vigorous energy. My feet and my arms were as thin and dry branches, and my chest seemed to have shrunk around my vertebrae bowed. I noticed my skin on the trail of a washout pigmentation of my old gold and bronze, to a white morning dew, almost to the dawn of childhood. The grease used sparingly guarded had abandoned my limbs, and my muscles are shrunken and hardened, like coarse flattened nuts.