Tropic of Capricorn

Reading it atlast. On the inside cover, a scribbled note: to Goalie Tapash, your Portuguese friend.

Have seen this book amongst Dad's collection for as long as I can remember, but never read it before.

It feels strangely awkward and embarrassing. Like meeting a man in the evening, in his drawing room, when his most intimate conversation, which you evesdropped on in the afternoon, is still fresh in your head.

Been a while since I saw or read Henry and June, but the impact is still fresh; And will be, a while.

Originally Posted at Prerona.

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