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The streetcars which a few minutes before had been crowded were now almost
empty. In the little cafe, Chez Pierrot, beside the tobacconist's, the waiter was
sweeping up the sawdust in the empty restaurant. A typical Sunday afternoon.
There were little pools of brightness under the lamps, and now^ and then a
streetcar passed, lighting up a girl's hair, or a smile, or a silver bangle. Soon after
this, as the streetcars became fewer and the sky showed velvety black above the
He told me he'd been having a roughhouse with a fellow who'd annoyed him. "I'm
not one who looks for trouble," he explained, "only I'm a bit short-tempered. That
fellow said to me, challenging-like, 'Come down off that streetcar, if you're a ...
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LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - Clara53 - LibraryThing
The book left a strange feeling in my head - can't put a finger on it even after a few days have gone by. It's something like this: how mere circumstances - if not judged or addressed precisely - can ... Read full review
LibraryThing ReviewUser Review - pivic - LibraryThing
This book is straight-forward. A trip into the mind of a man, who acts and thinks like a stoic; his journey through life is simple, basically because he does what he wants and doesn't care for much ... Read full review