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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 4, Página 10
Over
the
great
bridge,
with
the
sunlight
through
the
girders
making
a
constant
flicker
upon
the
moving
cars,
with
the
city
rising
up
across
the
river
in
white
heaps
and
sugar
lumps
all
built
with
a
wish
out
of
nonolfactory
money.
The
city
seen
from
the
Queensboro
Bridge
is
always
the
city
seen
for
the
first
time,
in
its
first
wild
promise
of
all
the
mystery
and
the
beauty
in
the
world.
A
dead
man
passed
us
in
a
hearse
heaped
with
blooms,
followed
by
two
carriages
with
drawn
blinds,
and
by
more
cheerful
carriages
for
friends.
The
friends
looked
out
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
included
in
their
sombre
holiday.
As
we
crossed
Blackwell’s
Island
a
limousine
passed
us,
driven
by
a
white
chauffeur,
in
which
sat
three
modish
negroes,
two
bucks
and
a
girl.
I
laughed
aloud
as
the
yolks
of
their
eyeballs
rolled
toward
us
in
haughty
rivalry.
“Anything
can
happen
now
that
we’ve
slid
over
this
bridge,”
I
thought;
“anything
at
all…”
Even
Gatsby
could
happen,
without
any
particular
wonder.
Roaring
noon.
In
a
well-fanned
Forty-second
Street
cellar
I
met
Gatsby
for
lunch.
Blinking
away
the
brightness
of
the
street
outside,
my
eyes
picked
him
out
obscurely
in
the
anteroom,
talking
to
another
man.
“Mr.
Carraway,
this
is
my
friend
Mr.
Wolfshiem.”
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana