“To the snow,” Pablo said and touched cups with him. Robert Jordan looked him in the eyes and clinked his cup. You bleary-eyed murderous sod, he thought. I’d like to clink this cup against your teeth. Take it easy, he told himself, take it easy.
I read a great book at my catering shift today (it was in some atrium of the Glenrose hospital, which housed a very small library). The book contained the memoirs of some Canadian journalist called Charles Lynch who had among other things, such as following Che Guevara as he stomped out of a speech by the U.S. Secretary of the Treasury right into the bathroom where he relieved himself and gave a hearty “LIBERDAD,” been a war correspondent during World War II.