It’s hotter than hell and I’m wasting my days with my limbs drooping in front of a fan, or dazedly people-watching on Saint-Laurent.
When I first read the short story, “Happy Hours in Pee-Pee“, it was mercilessly cold instead of hot in Montréal, yet Hillary Raphael’s descriptions of the climate in this story made me instantly recall these languid summer moments.
The piece appears on flaneur.org, a site that collects literature and photo essays that are focused on place. I once, in a lovelorn state, wrote a not-bad story about my lack of fortune with the object of my affections. The story was set in Montréal and I thought it was just place-related enough that it would do for flaneur.org. I sent it to the editor, who kindly told me that it had some nice moments but read a bit too much like a diary entry. (or a blog entry perhaps, ha ha ha). He was right. It never saw the light of day, and in the end, I’m thankful for that.
Enjoy “Happy Hours in Pee-Pee” instead.