Vladimir Nabokov. Other shores (№ 297454)

Too long, too idle, too wasteful, I dreamed about it. I lost the dream. Looking at agonizing miniatures, small print, double light I'm hopelessly spoil your inner vision. Exactly the same I spent, when in 1918 dreamed that the winter, when you're done with entomological walks, goes on Denikin's army and get to Tamarindo hamlet; but the winter passed and I was still going, and in March, the Crimea began to crumble under the pressure of the Reds, and the evacuation began.