Nadav Spiegelman

Giovanni's Room

James Baldwin
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a real decision makes one humble, one knows that it is at the mercy of more things than can be named—but
Giovanni was far from me, drinking marc between an old man, who looked like a receptacle of all the world’s dirt and disease, and a young boy, a redhead, who would look like that man one day, if one could read, in the dullness of his eye, anything so real as a future.
It has been cold down here this winter, though the people of the region seem to take it as a mark of ill-breeding in a foreigner if he makes any reference to this fact.
I loved her as much as ever and I still did not know how much that was.