sábado, 5 de agosto de 2017

Um excerto de James Salter, A Sport and a Pastime

Autun, still as a churchyard. Tile roofs, dark with moss. The amphitheatre. The great, central square: the Champ de Mars. Now, in the blue of autumn, it reappears, this old town, provincial autumn that touches the bone. The summer has ended. The garden withers. The mornings become chill. I am thirty, I am thirty-four - the years turn dry as leaves.

James Salter, A Sport and a Pastime, Picador, p. 7

2 comentários:

  1. "wellcome back gal" , este blogue nao merecia morrer....

  2. hahaha, not entirely sure that this is a return, a ver a ver. Obrigada in the meantime :)