On New York
I never had intimate friends, and the few who came close are in New York. By which I mean they’re dead, because that’s where I suppose condemned souls go in order not to endure the truth of their past lives.
— Gabriel García Márquez, Memories of My Melancholy Whores
-
sansetiquette liked this
-
xalegria liked this
-
vente-panneau-solaire liked this
-
frombeyondthepale liked this
-
sheacote liked this
-
crocodileblackpelvis reblogged this from homeofthevain
-
bethepedia reblogged this from homeofthevain
-
barrymanifold liked this
-
dailydubiousness liked this
-
gumplr liked this
-
fancyprosestyle liked this
-
sixtyfourwest liked this
-
gemilangsinathrya reblogged this from homeofthevain
-
atomic-oxygen liked this
-
heterosapien reblogged this from homeofthevain
-
ghettohoodclassy reblogged this from homeofthevain
-
tacosforone liked this
-
zoee liked this
-
joemartinez liked this
-
erickd liked this
-
seasilked liked this
-
tlvx liked this
-
burningfp liked this
-
petitchou liked this
-
therichgirlsareweeping liked this
-
68o9 liked this
-
throatazoa said:
shit, this is sitting a couple feet from me. Haven’t read it yet. In love with Marquez’ work
-
billyjane liked this
-
inorbitnewyork reblogged this from homeofthevain
-
spiegelman liked this
-
homeofthevain posted this
