Venice, Venice

“ We had left the café and were going back to the hotel. Hands in my coat pockets, I walked head down, pressing my feet down hard on the pavement to push the city under water. Every time I came to the bottom of a staircase I jumped unobtrusively to the ground with both feet together and, waiting for Edmondsson at the bottom of the steps, asked her to do the same. With the town sinking at the rate of thirty centimeters a century, I explained, or three millimeters a year, or point zero zero eighty-two millimeters a day, or point zero zero zero zero zero zero one millimeter a second, one might reasonably hope, by pressing our feet down hard on the pavement as we walked, to play some part in the drowning of the town. “

The Bathroom by Jean-Philippe Toussaint

130610 - 160610 / Venezia, Italia

Our Last Memory of Peace

“ She found Starling in the warm laundry room, dozing against the slow rump-rump of a washing machine in the smell of bleach and soap and fabric softener. Starling had the psychology background – Mapp’s was law – yet it was Mapp who knew that the washing machine’s rhythm was like a great heartbeat and the rush of its waters was what the unborn hear – our last memory of peace. “

The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris