It was a warm day, almost the end of March, and i stood outside the barber shop looking up at the jutting neon sign of a second floor dine and dice emporium called Florian's. A man was looking up at the sign too. He was looking up at the dusty windows with a sort of ecstatic fixity of expression, like a hunky immigrant catching his first sight of the Statue of Liberty. He was a big man but not more than six foot five inches tall and not wider than a beer truck.
Farewell My Lovely
reblogged from Amyvdh