Wednesday, July 8, 2009

when the wind was right

They stood in the street light through the kitchen window there'd never been much point in putting curtains over and listened to the thumping of the surf from down the hill. Some nights, when the wind was right, you could hear the surf all over town... "How about a beer?" He went to the fridge, pulled two cans out of the case he kept inside, handed one to Shasta. "There's this guy," she was saying.

"Inherent Vice," Thomas Pynchon

[Hoyne Avenue at Walton Street]

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Chicago, Illinois, United States

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