Two Sentence Tuesday - Sun Rises, Days Get Longer

The days are expanding into summer.

The clean up on Dead Broke is almost completed. I thought I'd be done by now, but other things, notably serial laziness, got in my way.
On the good side  it does not appear to need much actual rewriting. Not to say my prose is golden, I merely mean I can't find anything obvious that needs work.
I know I just called that good.
It may not be.
In between corrections I played with the world-building for Saintree and sorted a few things out. I'm getting antsy to get back at it, but I promised myself I'd finish the corrections first. 
On the reading end I finally finished The Sun Also Rises. I think I liked it, but I have to say I'm not sure.
It's one of those books that has to sit with me, mature a bit, let its flavours gather.
Hemingway's spare prose has its appeal. He did a fine job of it. And the lack of description most of the time worked.
But I still don't know my opinion of it save for the part where he's discussing the use of steers to keep the bulls calm before bullfighting. That was a brilliant metaphor for the impotent Jake Barnes among the other men, especially those interested in Lady Brett Ashley.
From the brief conversation about the steers in the corral:
" 'What do they have them in for?'
'To quiet down the bulls and keep them from breaking their horns against the stone walls, or goring each other.' "
-Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (Scribner Trade Paperback, 2006)
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My contribution to the cause this week:

" 'Relax, Eddie. Just relax.'
The whisper ran its hands up and down my body."

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Thanks for being here. It's good to know I'm being read.
For more or to get in on the fun please see the Women of Mystery.
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And speaking of the sun, Happy Solstice everyone.

Photo-Finish Friday -- Havana From A Rooftop

Morning on the theatre and the top of Capitolo from the terrace of the Havana Plaza.

The Havana Plaza is in Old Havana. It's a few blocks from the sea and a few blocks from one of Ernest Hemingway's favourite bars, La Floridita, where the daiquiri was invented.
Old Havana's streets are narrow, made of cobblestone, uneven, and full the sea crush of humanity.
Small shops dotted along a main street, Obispo, offer sandwiches, water, cigars, and rum. Sad-eyed old women press postcard quality photos of children toward the unwary tourist and beg for money. Health care is free in Cuba. So is education. They play on the sympathies of the foreigner. They had no hope with me and moved on to a fresh target when ignored.
Locals hang their laundry out on small balconies above the street and turn quickly away when a camera is pointed at them.
I understand. I would do the same.