![]() ![]() ![]() The fool reached for the young man's gun - tiny tufts of hair on his fingers between his knuckles - and would've grabbed it if the other man hadn't bumped him aside with his accordion, whereupon the shots rang louder than a cannon salvo. The eyebrows and the mouth and the eyes somehow constricted and became bigger at the same time. The Rittmeister's face tightened in stupefaction, the whole of it. ![]() For a moment, no one could do anything nor move - even the dog stared at him in bafflement - while all of the reality hinged on that incongruous detail of a barrel pointed directly at Their Imperial Highnesses. Let's ask Aleksandar Hemon to read from his new novel, "The World And All It Holds."ĪLEKSANDAR HEMON: (Reading) To the right of Pinto, a short young man - his hair also unkempt, a thin, strained mustache above his lip, his eyes sickly - pulled out a pistol. Rafael Pinto was there in Sarajevo when shots rang out in 1914. ![]()
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