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We trust and, by dint of trusting, forget we trusted.
Anchors of trust
Nothing would hurt me more than watching her flinch each time she hears the word “lunch.” Must never mention Renzo & Lucia’s and stay clear of anything remotely bearing on midday, Madison Avenue, or high-rise residential buildings, or cruise ships from Hollywood B movies from the early forties where new lovers stray from first-class dance floors to meet by starlight on the bridge and watch the moon shimmer on the placid ocean. I am thinking of Paul Henreid bringing two cigarettes to his lips and lighting both at the same time, one for him and one for Bette Davis. The beauty of romance. Could I
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Beauty of aciman
wineglasses like overgrown blooms on steroids.
Mmm
“We’re all a bit like that, aren’t we? Like Sicily, I mean.” “How so?” asks Claire, who is probably speaking to him for the first time tonight. Claire would never have asked me to explain anything. “We lead many lives, nurse more identities than we care to admit, are given all manner of names, when in fact one, and one only, is good enough.”
Aciman
prefer the illusion of perpetual fasting to the certainty of famine. I have, I think, what’s called a broken heart.
Me
“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”
M
