Short Story
On Thursday morning he walked again from his apartment in Palais Lutetia to the Villa Isola Bella. The quickest way was the low road through the tunnel and past the marina, but he preferred the climb up to the old cemetery where William Webb Ellis was buried, and then the stroll along the Garavan boulevard, past the Pian olive grove park with hunched, ancient trees set against the blue sea, on to the ornate villas of Garavan, some lacking love, but all with wonderful faded colours of green, yellow and rose. He walked slowly because of the heat, and carried the small backpack from his hand, rather than having it in contact with his shirt. On his way home he would buy the few supermarket items that are all a guy living on his own needs....
2006 ◽
Vol 20
(2)
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pp. 79-93
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2020 ◽
Vol 3
(II)
◽
Keyword(s):
2018 ◽
Vol 1
(1)
◽
pp. 106-125
Keyword(s):
Keyword(s):