the catcher in the rye

“Hey, Horwitz,” I said. “You ever pass by the lagoon in Central Park? Down by
Central Park South?”
“The what?”
“The lagoon. That little lake, like, there. Where the ducks are. You know.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, you know the ducks that swim around in it? In the springtime and all? Do
you happen to know where they go in the wintertime, by any chance?”
“Where who goes?”
“The ducks. Do you know, by any chance? I mean does somebody come around
in a truck or something and take them away, or do they fly away by themselves- go south or something?”
(...)
“I didn’t say anything for about a minute. Then I said, “All right. What do they
do, the fish and all, when that whole little lake’s a solid block of ice, people skating on it
and all?”
Old Horwitz turned around again. “What the hellaya mean what do they do?” he
yelled at me. “They stay right where they are, for Chrissake.”
“They can’t just ignore the ice. They can’t just ignore it.”
“Who’s ignoring it? Nobody’s ignoring it!” Horwitz said. He got so damn excited
and all, I was afraid he was going to drive the cab right into a lamppost or something.
“They live right in the goddamn ice. It’s their nature, for Chrissake. They get frozen
right in one position for the whole winter.”

J.D. Salinger (January 1, 1919 - January 27, 2010)

oink-oink olympics

ora babe lá...

monday... again...

Quase tudo!

em directo do Pé d'Alface:
m&m comeu quase tudo! (e as doses são grandes:)

a good day