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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 4, Página 10
Over
the
great
bridge,
with
the
sunlight
flickering
through
the
girders
on
the
moving
cars,
the
city
rose
across
the
river
in
white
heaps
and
sugar
lumps,
all
built
with
a
wish
from
nonolfactory
money.
The
city
seen
from
the
Queensboro
Bridge
always
seems
like
the
city
seen
for
the
first
time,
with
its
wild
promise
of
all
the
mystery
and
beauty
in
the
world.
A
dead
man
passed
us
in
a
hearse
covered
with
flowers,
followed
by
two
carriages
with
drawn
blinds,
and
by
more
cheerful
carriages
for
friends.
The
friends
looked
at
us
with
the
tragic
eyes
and
short
upper
lips
of
southeastern
Europe,
and
I
was
glad
that
the
sight
of
Gatsby’s
splendid
car
was
part
of
their
somber
holiday.
As
we
crossed
Blackwell’s
Island,
a
limousine
passed
us,
driven
by
a
white
chauffeur,
with
three
fashionable
Black
passengers
inside,
two
men
and
a
woman.
I
laughed
aloud
as
their
eyes
turned
toward
us
in
proud
rivalry.
"Anything
can
happen
now
that
we’ve
crossed
this
bridge,"
I
thought;
"anything
at
all..."
Even
Gatsby
could
happen,
without
any
particular
wonder.
It
was
noon.
In
a
well-cooled
cellar
on
Forty-second
Street,
I
met
Gatsby
for
lunch.
Blinking
away
the
brightness
of
the
street
outside,
my
eyes
found
him
in
the
dim
anteroom,
talking
to
another
man.
"Mr.
Carraway,
this
is
my
friend
Mr.
Wolfshiem."
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana