where the writers are

1935 | 1935

luke-james's picture
“In 1935,” he said, “I used to sail to New York and back. Regular. I was a stoker and a damned fine one. The best that pieces of merde cruise line ever had. Shovel, eat, sleep and crap, that was all I did for the 4 days it took to cross the Atlantic.” “Very commendable.” He flicked a match against...
luke-james's picture
Emile was sitting outside the Cap Ferret tourist information office, dozing in the afternoon sun, happily unemployed. An ancient Citroen 2CV, an exercise in rust and bungee cords, backfired noisily along the quayside and slumped to an exhausted halt across the street from him. With a shriek of...