I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.


The diary of Antoine Roquentin (ed. 1949)


I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.

I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.

I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.

I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death.