A review by mjeestrella
First Love by Ivan Turgenev

5.0

I did not want to know whether I was loved, and I did not want to acknowledge to myself that I was not.

I gave myself up to fruitless speculation, and was always looking for secluded places. I became particularly fond of the ruined greenhouse. I used to climb, I remember, on to the high wall, settle myself on it and sit there, a youth afflicted by such misery, solitude and grief that I would be overcome with self-pity. How I reveled in these melancholy feelings - how I adored them.

I am in love with Turgenev's prose - so simple yet so captivating <3