white nights by fyodor dostoyevsky.
to say i understood this book would be a false claim.
i dont think anybody but dostoyevsky can understand the pain, the beauty the way it is so perfectly crafted with all the emotions that arenโt always transparent. that rawness in the longing for nastenka, how throughout the book the mans name is never omce mentioned but hers is - over a 128 times is just god.
i hope to read this and possibly understand it in another life xx
happy reading ๐
