“Oh Morri, if only everything didn’t cost so much!” And the happier she became, the harder and more irritating it was to have to explain that he had the runs and that that was why he kept popping into all these cafés, so as to empty himself over their filthy insanitary holes in the ground. It was her fault (he had an itch now too) for the godawful diet she was miserlily insisting on; but she laughed and said he should learn to see the funny side of things.

[…] the dim, tall, blocklike shadows behind the trees make it start to look, weirdly, as if this were Central Park as painted by Vuillard.

But since the first family arrived here in March, coatless and stunned to find what appeared to be a cold desert of leafless trees, the city has become a beacon to other Gatumba survivors around the country.

I hear the rhythms of the music / I buy the product and never use it