While having dinner at Sant Ambroeus last night I realized that the first time I came to this place for dinner was during the summer of 1997.
For a second I thought of counting all the hours that I have spent at this restaurant, which seems to me more of an investment than the money I spent there.
And this morning I went to Central Park with my godson to meet a friend and her two children.
We were sitting at a playground, watching the children, the adults; asking each other questions like: “Do you get sunburned easily?” I’m almost ready to fulfill the request of Daniel Keel, my German publisher: To write a happy novel about a happy family. Sort of.
He once told me that it was his duty as a publisher to urge his authors to write potential bestsellers.