"I remember the sky over Paris sulked with the streets, each sharing their grayness in return for a poor slice of the winter-season. Our first meeting happened in the Marais, a small café with a horseshoe bar which we sat at, and where this lingerer in the tortures of memory politely offered wearied answers to my questions[1]."
Saturday, 19 February 2011
"I remember the sky over Paris sulked with the streets, each sharing their grayness in return for a poor slice of the winter-season. Our first meeting happened in the Marais, a small café with a horseshoe bar which we sat at, and where this lingerer in the tortures of memory politely offered wearied answers to my questions[1]."
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