The only definition of a Londoner I followed was the people you see around you. The ones who stock the Tube trains and fill the pavements and queue in Tesco with armfuls of plastic-wrapped veg. Whatever their reason or origin, they are laughing, rushing, conniving, snatching free evening newspapers, speaking into phones, complaining, sweeping floors, tending to hedge funds, pushing empty pint glasses, marching, arguing, drinking, kneeling, swaying, huffing at those who stand on the left-hand side of the escalator, moving, moving, always moving. It’s a city of verbs.
—Londoners - Craig Taylor
I straightened up and looked out of the window at the dark clouds hanging over the North Sea, thinking of all I had lost in the course of my life: times gone for ever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.
—Haruki Murakami - Norwegian Wood
(Source: wearethe99percent)
Some of the best songwriters of our generation.
Such a good new haircut. And FOR FREE.
Stumptown Coffee, Portland OR.
Splendid to arrive alone in a foreign country and feel the assault of difference. Here they are all along, busy with living; they don’t talk or look like me. The rhythm of their day is entirely different; I am thoroughly foreign.
—Under The Tuscan Sun - Frances Mayes
The waterfall of problems with Benito, the financial worries, the language barriers, the hot water in the toilet, the layers of gunk on the beams, the long flights over from California - this is nothing compared to the absolute joy of being in possession of this remarkable little hillside on the edge of Tuscany.
—
Under the Tuscan Sun - Frances Mayes
(SO much better than the patronising movie makes this wonderful book out to be.)
