Foxy said, "We must get back," truly sad. She was to experience this sadness many times, this chronic sadness of late Sunday afternoon, when the couples exhausted their game, basketball or beachgoing or tennis or touch football, and saw an evening weighing upon them, an evening without a game, an evening spent among flickering lamps and cranky children and leftover food and the nagging half-read newspapers with its weary portents and atrocities, an evening when marriages closed in upon themselves like flowers from which the sun is withdrawn, an evening giving like a smeared window on Monday and the long week when they must perform again their impersonations of working men, of stockbrokers and dentists and engineers, of mothers and housekeepers, of adults who are not the world's guests but its hosts.
É por estas e por outras que Couples é um dos meus livros favoritos e John Updike um homem que não me canso de ler.
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