Passagier

But come. No explaining or mending. Be beside me somewhere: on the split stools of this bar, by the edge of this cliff, in the seats of this borrowed car, at the prow of this ship, on the all-forgiving cushions of this thread-bare sofa in this one-story copper-crying fixer-upper whose windows we once squinted through for hours before coming to our senses: "What would we even do with such a house?"

[aus Jonathan Safran Foer - "Here we aren't, so quickly" aus The New Yorker, 14. Juni 2010 Im Original leider nur mit Abo oder KGB-Lupe zu lesen. Dann schon eher hier wo jemand anderes als ich an den baldigen Triumph der Kultur über das Copyright glaubt ]