Then, one night, I went to bed with a bottle of wine and picked up A Time of Gifts by Patrick Leigh Fermor, something I'd been intending to read for years.
We were coming apart, and doing it over a postmodern multi-layered satirical novel – one that the noisiest spirits in the debate did not intend to read for fear of being spiritually befouled.
Ronnie still believed I intended to read law, but I knew I had enrolled myself for modern languages.
Specifically, we looked for possible messages to the colleagues intended to read the reports.
The piece – human, being – is a prose poem about a man watching trains pass through his hometown as a metaphor for human apathy, and while I doubt the other members of my workshop will understand its nuances, I still intend to read it aloud and present it for critique tomorrow.
At her homecoming reading, she intends to read a passage from the book that involves Austin.
Just like the Zographs' paintings of Byzantine saints reproduced again and again across Europe (and those of the Backovo masters, responsible for the original stolen painting central to this novel), Men in Space is intended to be read for its own coded messages.
It's intended for kids to read for a designated period of time.
