Colony
Monday, November 20, 2000
arsip tempo : 178036284069.
Sometimes I dream of a predictable country, its roads without potholes and rather quiet, its buildings standing unscarred and its houses never burned down, where everyone has a number and no questions, and whose trees grow with botanical labels. I don’t want to live there.
In a city whose buildings stand unscarred, a person leaves because of restlessness or boredom. Such a person can decide one day to go far away to Patagonia, "the country
...
Subscribe to continue reading.
We craft news with stories.
For the benefits of subscribing to Digital Tempo, See More
