Το ημερολόγιο ενός φυγά ΧV

 

The streets were dark with something more than night.

Most people go through life using up half their energy trying to protect a dignity they never had.

The wet air was as cold as the ashes of love.

I'm killing time and it's dying hard.

I was as empty of life as a scarecrow's pockets.

The next hour was three hours long.

California the department-store state. The most of everything and the best of nothing.

I was as hollow an empty as the spaces between the stars.

Raymond Chandler's wisdom.