"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]."
Showing posts with label The Border Crossing in Morning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Border Crossing in Morning. Show all posts
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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