Henry Miller – Tropic of Cancer

  It was a Sunday afternoon, much like this, when I first met Germaine. I was strolling along the Boulevard Beaumarchais, rich by a hundred francs or so which my wife had frantically cabled from America. There was a touch of spring in the air, a poisonous, malefic spring that seemed to burst ¬†from the … Continue reading Henry Miller – Tropic of Cancer