It had nothing to do with the food, the moon, the Bosphorus, or the bridge—but with the day both of them had had.
It had nothing to do with the food, the moon, the Bosphorus, or the bridge—but with the day both of them had had.
“Will you tell me the rest?” Karla asked, lighting two cigarettes and handing him one. “I’m dying to tell you about my day and how I found myself.”
By the look of it, she’d found her soul mate. In reality, Paulo no longer had any interest in his own story, but she’d asked him to tell her, and now he’d tell it to the end.
