More Bolano
Still wading through The Savage Detectives tonight. My favorite part of reading is coming a passage that you love so wholly it becomes impossible not to want to share it with everyone:
And then comes the funny part…they just stood there and asked me whether I wrote love letters. Everything, boys, I told them, setting the file on the floor and filling my glass with Los Suicidas mezcal again, letters from mothers to their children, letters from children to their fathers, letters from women to their husbands in prison, and letters from lovers, of course, which are the best, either because they’re so innocent or so steamy, everything mixed together as it is at the druggist’s counter and sometimes the writer adds something of his own devising.
(also reading Happiness as my little excursion beachy summer time read.)
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