He collected books, you know. Books, paintings, stamps, beer-bottle tops, anything cultural appealed to him. Just before he died, he started collecting busts of Napoleon. You would be surprised how many busts they had made of that horrible little Corsican. My husband had five hundred and eighty-two. “Henri,” I said to him. “Henri, this must stop.
(
Read more... )
Comments 4
Reply
Reply
Просто задумался, что подтолкнуло вас к написанию этого поста. : )
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment