it's a sad thing, finishing a book.

"Often, on the way to the hotel, or even in the middle of the lesson, or when I awoke, or instead of sleeping, I wondered what Vanda was doing at that time in London. I knew she was the kind of woman who got up early to go sightseeing, made friends, filmed statues, ate lunch standing up, waited in queues, climbed stairs; when we traveled together we usually only met up at dinnertime. I can't really criticize her; I myself have seen so many cities superficially that now I might easily confuse them all. It took me a long time to learn that to know a city it is better to shut yourself away in a room within it than ride around it in a double-decker bus." -- from Chico Buarque's Budapest

photograph: buenos aires, argentina. two thousand and eleven.