She embraced him and he felt how he became whole again. He hadn't realized exactly how divided he had been, how split, because ever since he had started working, he had written from that tough core inside, which couldn't be divided, couldn't be reached by anything, couldn't even be scratched a little.

When he returned to the room, he didn't find David anymore - he stood for a long time looking at the bed, then he went and opened the bathroom door and stood like that, looking at himself in the tall mirror. His face was expressionless, he looked at himself from head to toe, with no expression imprinted on his face. When he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him, there was almost no light outside anymore.

"Don't you want to suffer? I just wanted to have a beautiful day together. Why spoil everything?
Let's clean up here and go.
Where?
Anywhere. To that crappy café."

After that, they remained lying down; he passed his arm under her head, they were happy and lazy and he felt how she turned her head from one side to the other and rubbed it against his cheek. She had tousled hair, slightly scented by the sun and the sea. Then, with her hair falling over her face, she touched him when she moved her head, her face began to play with it, at first gently, exploring it, then with delight and, at one point, she said to him...

Honestly, it's not horrible, Hemingway. You could have done better, but at least something happened this time around.

His writing style, known for its simplicity and directness, has both its admirers and critics. Some might argue that this particular work lacks the depth and complexity that his other masterpieces possess. However, it's important to remember that even the greatest of writers have off days or works that don't quite reach the same heights.

Perhaps Hemingway was experimenting with a different approach or was in a different mindset when he created this piece. Nevertheless, it still has its redeeming qualities. The events that unfold, although not earth-shattering, do manage to hold the reader's attention to some extent. It makes one wonder what Hemingway was trying to convey and if there are hidden meanings or messages within the text that are waiting to be discovered.

Falling for the promise of an interesting Hemingway woman who isn't just a projection of his misogyny and desire is like losing a chess game to a dog. It's a rather disheartening situation. And unfortunately, I find myself in this very predicament.

I seem to have been lured in by the allure of such a woman, only to realize too late that perhaps I was misled.

However, there is a glimmer of hope. I need to go back to the south of France. Maybe in that beautiful and inspiring region, I can find some clarity and perhaps even a way to rectify my mistake.

The south of France has always held a special charm for me, with its warm climate, beautiful landscapes, and rich culture.

I am hopeful that being there will help me to see things more clearly and to move forward from this unfortunate experience.