“Evenings you would wait for Papa at your parents’ door, and you’d smell his pipe smoke and know he was approaching, and that he’d started smoking because he loved you and hadn’t yet found the nerve to say so. You said you felt as if you’d drunk a glass of plum brandy distilled just for you by God. Don’t get married, you used to say, until you meet someone who makes you feel that tipsy. By that definition, I have fallen in love with a car. Race cars, to be exact. The minute we reach the track I ...feel a giddy intoxication. The crowd around me senses it too. We are all punch drunk with excitement. Some chemical surges inside us when the cars roar off. My heart learns a jazzy new rhythm that makes me happy to be alive! I know what you are thinking. Why does our son never sound like this when he’s talking about a girl? But lest you think I’ve been going to the races to squander the pennies I’ve squirreled away in this bleak economy, let me reassure you. My relationship with the races is like my connection to the brothels.MoreLessRead More Read Less
Read book Lovers At the Chameleon Club, Paris 1932 for free
User Reviews: