He’d had a chance by then to review most of his major life decisions, then to regret them, then to not care one way or the other; he’d had a chance to resolve to change in every possible way that could make any difference and then to admit that he’d never change, that he didn’t even want to, that he preferred just to wallow in his iniquities like a pig in his shit. His head was pounding, his legs were jelly, his lungs felt like burst balloons. All he could smell was his own sweat, shaded by now into degrees of staleness, and then the awful seafood stench coming up from his groceries like the miasma off a swamp. At least Novak would be gone. He had seen Jiri’s bag, the same battered leather one he’d first shown up with, sitting already packed by the door when he’d left the apartment that morning. If María hadn’t been waiting for him Alex would gladly have stuck around to see Jiri safely off, to his cab, to his very train. All that mattered was that he be gone, that Alex be free to have his evening with María without the sense of Jiri’s looming presence, which had somehow managed to assert itself in every corner of the apartment since he’d moved in.
What do You think about The Origin Of Species (2010)?
