The night before departure I drank a bottle of cheap red wine, read pages of Flowers of Evil, A Moveable Feast, Giovanni’s Room. In the morning I woke tongue dry, around the time bars empty out and bodies spill into the streets. Beyond my window view, another Saturday night of excess and forgotten memories burned in a city with rising crime and unemploy…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Tumbleweed Words to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.