There are lots of songs that have been written about girls. Thousands of millions of songs about girls. Wicked women and sidewalk stomping vixens. Daddy’s little girls and preacher’s daughters. Sweet, doeeyed babies and bitchy, addictive heroines. Sometimes I think of Marnie as all of those clichéd tunes mashed up. Every time I hear one of them over the loud speaker in the No Frills, while carefully deciding between frozen peas and peachesand cream corn, I can only think about her. I think about her living across the hall from me. Her cluttered apartment packed with relics, her rescue cat and her tiny, paint-peeling kitchenette. I think about how the walls are so paper thin that I can occasionally hear her singing in the shower. [download]
Format : Ebook.Pdf
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