Da bewegt man sich den ganzen Tag in der Percanat-Hölle, will abends im Bett zur Ruhe kommen und greift zur neuesten Lektüre The Confessions of Max Tivoli (nochmal ein Dankeschön an Michael für das nette Geschenk), und was muss man auf Seite 19 lesen:

„My writing was interrupted by a boy. It was you, Sammy. You came over in your usual flurry of action, as if you were ten boys running together, and stopped short of me in the sad dust of this school yard. In the trees, birds or girls were twittering.“

Can’t escape the percanat.