 |
August is a bitter month, where shrill gusts whip the leaves from beneath your feet and fling the urban dust into your face. August is a month to be endured, with the promise of better to come. Out there. In the distance. The future.
Guillaume was no lover of August, neither on this side of the world, nor the other side. He had found a place out of the path of nature’s spite. With his back to the wall, he listened. To him, that was communication. He could not connect his listening with Henri’s speaking. Any connection required thought and, heaven forbid, decision making. Guillaume was a lover of fence sitting.
He was a pastry chef, a very good pastry chef. He wanted to tell Henri about his new concoction, but he listened instead. He listened to Henri telling him that the chill winds of August would not blow kindly.
3 comments:
Yes mightly chiilly here but we were in the city today so basking in warmth.
We had a 'grandmother's day' at the cafe in Centennial Park today. Tomorrow a long standing friend from Melbourne arrives for two days. We are going to have another day avec bebe, this time out at Watson's Bay. Yes, yes, I would have to say that being a grandmother is a bit of alright.
Nice catch, this man phoning on its cell next to a unused public phone...
Post a Comment