Sunday, December 20, 2015

the last book I ever read (A Little Life: A Novel by Hanya Yanagihara, excerpt twelve)

from A Little Life: A Novel by Hanya Yanagihara:

Also that week, the things you like anyway seem, in their very existence, to be worthy of celebration: the candied-walnut vendor on Crosby Street who always returns your wave as you jog past him; the falafel sandwich with extra pickled radish from the truck down the block that you woke up craving one night in London; the apartment itself, with its sunlight that lopes from one end to the other in the course of a day, with your things and food and bed and shower and smells.

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