Friday, July 27, 2018

Une autre fois, mon amour

Every time I go to Rome I get a different feel for it, but I can never say that I love it. It's not pretty like Paris or grand like New York, but sometimes as vulgar as my childhood's LA.

Stephanie feels it too. "Let's go to Nice and get in trouble" she says, a sudden hint of madness in her emerald eyes. My only condition is that we stay away from Le Negresco, so she books the Westminster just for spite.

"Ocean view?" she asks as if she really means it like a question. I don't know how the two of us ever became friends.






2 comments:

  1. A friend is just a stranger you haven't left.

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  2. I wish I had friends. sometimes I wonder for whom am I writing all these stories for? it’s like the old song goes, “I knew the silence of the world”

    when I was at the Vatican I learned about the angel’s threesome and the devil’s threesome, and how one is ironically more pleasurable than the other. I think I took a wrong turn somewhere...

    your post title would have been the title of the next An American Tail sequel.

    I read that as Nabisco. it’s noon, i’m famished, and i’m missing my brunch date at my favorite Roman cafe spot with Henry...

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