In Times Which Seem Like Self-Psychotherapy He Says To Himself:
Oh, Vienna

Photo by Ricardo Gomez Angel on Unsplash

No more Sunday mornings creeping like a nun (except it is a Saturday); we have breakfast on the terrace, in the early light. We are the first, we speak in broken Spanish with the hotel waitresses; they giggle, they laugh, at the couple who are so so obviously, so so…

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