December 2024

Lilia found at that moment that she had no patience for anything: this city, this street, this relentlessly trendy split-level bar, the identically dressed waitresses gliding between tables, this blue-haired girl across the table with the beer. The sadness of the waitress’s blue-green snake tattoo, circling forever on the same tired wrist.

Emily St. John Mandel, “Last Night in Montreal”

I like it better here where I can sit just quietly and smell the flowers.

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