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Weinend

Began in Venice and it might not get much better

Pains me to say this so much…but it’s boring and not in a fun way

I found this book in my mother’s bookshelf. The patriarch of the family she babysat for had bought it at the London airport on a business trip. It’s from 1986 and the translation is hilariously helpless

Summer is for stories spanning generations

Pry this from my cold dead hands but beware the worms burrowed inside the words for they have eaten them up and given them to me

Pry this from my cold dead hands but beware of the worms that have burrowed in the pages for this is warm

I cannot find my copy and I am embarrassed and infinitely Hurt I could do this to myself