the opposite of hunger

music: jolie holland
hungry for: peaches & roquefort

kite-flying in montmartre; a fika of chevre-fig bread; on top of the world.

"that's how it is, rocamadour: in paris we're like fungus, we grow on the railings of staircases, in dark rooms with greasy smells, where people make love all the time and then fry some eggs and put on vivaldi records, light cigarettes...and outside there are all sorts of things, the windows open onto the air and it all begins with a sparrow or a gutter, it rains a lot here, rocamadour, much more than in the country, and things get rusty...we don't have many clothes, we get along with so few, a good overcoat, some shoes to keep the rain out, we're very dirty, everybody is dirty and good-looking in paris, rocamadour, the beds smell of night and deep sleep, dust and books underneath"

- Julio Cortazar, Hopscotch, chapter 32