The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

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I picked up this book at an estate sale. Take all you want she said. I’ve been thinking about this woman who owned this book. I’ve wondered about her life. I’ve wondered about her family and I whispered a little prayer for them. She had a lovely settee and a popcorn ceiling and two mink coats. Apparently I own one now. I looked through her jewelry and missed my grandma. The book has an old smell that reminds me of my grandparents home. And the words. The words are the most honest I’ve read in a long time. Pages 156-159 are ripped. It’s during the running of the bulls in Pamplona. I’m sure it’s all tied together. Reading about the fury of the torero must have gotten the best of her. It’s sexy and it’s sad. Ernest was a brilliant, vibrant, selfish, mentally ill fellow. Hadley I grew quite fond of. Now, I’ve told you everything about the book and nearly nothing at all. #bookstagram
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