Ontem, já à 1h da manhã quando me deitei, agarrei num dos livros da mesa de cabeceira. Queria uma coisa leve, só para ter o prazer de agarrar no livro. Peguei na Candace Bushnell e no Sex And The City... Fútil? Básico? Superficial? Nada disso. Muito mais do que se julga.
Estou sem tempo para este meu querido blog, mas hoje, não pude evitar:
"An English journalist came to New York. She was attractive and witty, and right away she hooked up with one of the New York's typically eligible bachelors. Tim was forty-two, an investment banker who made about $5 million a year. for two weeks they kissed, held hands - and then, on a warm fall day he drove her to the house he was building to the Hamptons. They looked at the plans with the architect. [...] On Sunday night, Tim dropped her off at her apartment and reminded her that they had dinner plans for Tuesday.On Tuesday, he called and said he'd have to take a rain check. When she hadn't heard from him after two weeks, she called and told him, "That's an awafully long rain check." He said he would call her later that week.
He never did call, of course. But what interested me was that she couldn't understand what had happened. In England, she explained, meeting the architect would have meant something".
Eu já não disse que não tarda escrevo um livro?