May
16th
Fri
16th
From a window table, he now looked out across a strip of concrete to damp shingle, a bored sky, and a lifeless sea. That was the east coast: for months on end you got bits of bad weather and lots of no weather.
This was fine by him: he’d moved here to have no weather in his life.
This was fine by him: he’d moved here to have no weather in his life.
— Julian Barnes
Un racconto per il weekend: “East Wind” di Julian Barnes (dal New Yorker)


