.. so, in a mild winter evening, ..

“- two old friends sitting around remembering the best thing that never happened to them .

– how do you remember something that never happened?

– .. fondly .. you see, Flaubert believed that anticipation was the purest form of pleasure and the most reliable and that all the things that actually happened to you would invariably disappoint the things that never happened to you, would never dim, never fail .. it would always be engraved in your heart with a sort of sweet sadness.”


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