thirty-two: ernest hemingway.

notre dame. paris. march 2012.

Sometimes I feel as a woman I’m going against my gender because of my deep love for Hemingway. The majority of my female friends “loathe” him on something called “principle.” I’m not one for principles. I am one for hard-drinking, womanizing, impeccably talented yet tortured souls. That’s my cup of tea and I’m sticking to it.

But it’s A Moveable Feast, the book I carried with me until it was torn and tattered my first time in Paris, that is my favorite of all of Hemingway’s works. It is perfect.

“If the reader prefers, this book may be regarded as fiction. But there is always the chance that such a book of fiction may throw some light on what has been written as fact.” – Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

"...such was the Paris of our youth, the time when we were very poor and very happy."

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