She felt the cold blast from the sterile air conditioning on her bare arms and thighs, as she ambled down the center of the shopping complex's ground floor.
The scene was a swirl of candy bright lights--the Victoria's Secret fuchsia signboard, signboards which lured one to purchase "confidence," or "sexual appeal," or whatever it was that was being advertised--the fluorescent lights in each store, contrasting with the shiny, black-tiled walls and eye-catching speckled marble tiles on the ground.
One could lick the floor--the tiles were spotless, clean like the fake air she was breathing in, like the atoms and cells in her that were decaying in stale neglect.
Mots clés money sexuality society confidence sex literature lust sex-appeal desires self-image materialism erotic desire business contemporary urban image commerce eroticism astrology popular-culture commercialism erotica shopping literary-fiction contemporary-fiction erotic-romance erotic-literature gemini-moon sexual-astrology
Each neighborhood of the city appeared to be made of a different substance, each seemed to have a different air pressure, a different psychic weight: the bright lights and shuttered shops, the housing projects and luxury hotels, the fire escapes and city parks.
Teju ColeMots clés new-york-city urban city
They had pulled me from the hemorrhaging, dying body of my mother and turned me over to the care of the man who was not my father. He had taken me home to their tiny apartment above the old hardware store and done what little he knew to take care of me.
It took less than six weeks for him to realize his mistake. Maybe even less than six hours, but he never abandoned me. He clung to me as though I was the last remnant of some great and powerful love.
And that gave me hope that maybe my mother was really something else and not just some girl who got knocked up by a guy whose name she didn’t even know. She was something special, someone worthy of a man’s loyalty and devotion.
--Rocky Evans
Mots clés suspense young-adult urban historical-romance romantic-suspense teen-romance teen-series
Kevin looks at me and I know he isn’t seeing the little girl I use to be, all pigtails and gangly limbs. He isn’t seeing my mother’s daughter or even my mother anymore. As his eyes linger over me, stopping here and there in the most uncomfortable places, I know he isn’t really even seeing me as I am. The bloodshot eyes staring out of the alcohol-flushed face are seeing a girl, nearly of age, who owes him a tremendous debt of gratitude.--Rocky Evans
Gwenn WrightMots clés love romance historical-fiction young-adult urban teens ya romantic-suspense family-saga
My life is hard. No one would rob me of that. The clothes I am wearing came out of a knotted up black plastic trash bag from a resale shop downtown. And not the downtown where shiny cars wink at you in the sunlight. If a car winks at you in this area it’s being driven by a person you would be best to avoid.
My side of downtown is crumbling and skirted by chain link fences.
--Rocky Evans
Mots clés romance young-adult thriller urban historical-romance ya teen romantic-suspense family-saga
Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.
Jennifer DonnellyMots clés historical-fiction revolution urban jennifer-donnelly
She's got a big belt around her hips. It has a shiny buckle with PRADA on it, which is Italian for insecure.
Jennifer DonnellyMots clés historical-fiction revolution urban young-adult-series jennifer-donnelly
She smells of her cooking and the perfume Eau d'Hadrien. My mother wore it, too. She used to cook, like Lili. Our house smelled of garlic and thyme instead of sadness.
Jennifer DonnellyMots clés historical-fiction sad urban tragic young-adult-series
I will Basquiat the canvas of your body like a Broadway Junction wall…and Gordon Parks you for those dark midnights when your scent fades.
Brandi L. BatesMots clés love poetry new-york urban brandi-bates basquiat gordon-parks
How reprehensible it is when those blessed with commodities insist on ignoring the poor. Better to torment them, force them into indentured servitude, inflict compulsion and blows—this at least produces a connection, fury and a pounding heart, and these too constitute a form of relationship. But to cower in elegant homes behind golden garden gates, fearful lest the breath of warm humankind touch you, unable to indulge in extravagances for fear they might be glimpsed by the embittered oppressed, to oppress and yet lack the courage to show yourself as an oppressor, even to fear the ones you are oppressing, feeling ill at ease in your own wealth and begrudging others their ease, to resort to disagreeable weapons that require neither true audacity nor manly courage, to have money, but only money, without splendor: That’s what things look like in our cities at present
Robert WalserMots clés money wealth courage inequality class-warfare oppression cowardice poverty neighborhoods urban poor city urbanization
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