A Gentleman In Moscow
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
though the bottle was far from empty. The Count did not refill the glass, nor did he toss it over his shoulder. Rather, he placed it with care on the chimney top, and then approached the parapet, where he said to his full height, before um sprawled the city, glorious and grandiose. Its legions of light shimmered and reeled until he mixed with the movements of the stars. In one dizzy spear they spun, confusing the works of man with the works of Heaven, placing his right foot on the perfect stage cow, alexander, Elliot, Rostov side. Goodbye! My country. As if it reply, the beacon of Michigan's Tower blanked. It was now the simplest of matters like one who stands on a dock in spring preparing to take the first plunge of the season. All that remained was a leap, starting just six stories off the ground and falling at the speed of a kopeck, a teacup or a pineapple. The entire journey would only take a matter of seconds, and then the circle will be complete, for his sunrise leads the sunset and dust to dust, as every river returns to the sea. Just so a man must return to the embrace of oblivion. From whence your excellency turning in dismay at the interruption! The Count discovered Abrams standing behind him in the state of excitement. In fact, everyone was in such a state of excitement that he showed not the slightest surprise at finding the Count poised at the spot where the roof from. At the either. I thought, I heard your voice, said the old handyman, I'm so glad you're here. You must come with me at once Abram, my friend the Count began to explain what the old man continued unabated. You would not believe it if I tell you, you have to see it for yourself. Then, without waiting for a response he hurried with surprising agility towards his encampment. The Count let out of sight, assuring the city that it would be back in a moment. He followed Abram across the roof to the browser, where the old man stopped and pointed to the northeast corner of the hotel and there, against the brightly lit backdrop of the bolshoi, one could just make out a frenzy of tiny shadows darting through the air. They've returned. Abram exclaimed the bees. Yes, but that's not all. Sit, sit Abram gesture towards a plank of wood that had so often served as accounts share. As the Count stood the plank on end, Abram bent over his makeshift table. On it was a tray from one of the hives. He cut into the car with a knife, spread the honey on a spoon, and handed it to the cow. Then he sit back with a smile of anticipation. Well, he prompted, Go ahead beautifully! The Count put the spoon in his mouth in an instant. There was a familiar sweetness of fresh honey, sunlit, golden and *** given the time of the year, the Count was expecting. The first impression befouled by ahead of lilacs from the alexander gardens or cherry blossoms from the garden ring. But as the elixir dissolved on his tongue, the Count became aware of something else entirely, rather than the flowering trees of central Moscow. The honey had a hint of grassy riverbank, the trace of a summer breeze, the suggestion of Angola. But most of all, there was the unmistakable essence of 1000 apple trees in bloom.