where the hot wind blows

Jules Dassin directing Gina Lollobrigida and Yves Montand in La Loi, 1959

[US title: Where the Hot Wind Blows]

Dassin was an American who was forced to work in Europe after being put on the Hollywood Blacklist

Here is where the hot wind blows and the old ways do not seem relevant… Here is the last stop for all those who come from somewhere else, for all those who drifted away from the cold and the past and the old days.
—  Joan Didion, Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Songs to cry/kiss/cuddle to:

My Mistakes Were Made For You - The Last Shadow Puppets

Don’t Panic - Coldplay

Violet Hill - Coldplay

We Never Change - Coldplay

Curl Up Like a Dead Leaf and Go Where the Wind Blows - Bombay Bicycle Club

Porcelain - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Fading Silently - Nosound

Seaside - The Kooks

No. 1 Party Anthem - Arctic Monkeys

Only Ones Who Know - Arctic Monkeys

Hiding Tonight - Alex Turner

You - We Are Trees

Sunrise Sunset - We Are Trees

Every Way (Acoustic) - Circa Survive

Here - Pavement

Toothpaste Kisses- The Maccabees 

In The Moonlight - Blithe

Obvious Bicycle - Vampire Weekend

We’re Going To Be Friends - The White Stripes

There Are Many of Us - Aska & The Lost Tree

Hellhole Ratrace - Girls

Did You See The Words - Animal Collective

Women Who Love Men Who Love Drugs - Oceansize

Exit Music (For A Film) - Radiohead

Videotape - Radiohead

Faust Arp - Radiohead

Creep (Acoustic) - Radiohead

Asleep - The Smiths 

The Girl - City and Colour 

Islands - Young the Giant 

I’m Not Human at All - Sleep Party People

About You - xxyyxx

Retrograde - James Blake

To Care (Like You) - James Blake

Sex and Candy - Marcy Playground

Reckless - San Cisco

Cannonball - Damien Rice

Love is like a wind stirring the grass beneath trees on a black night,’ he had said. ‘You must not try to make love definite. It is the divine accident of life. If you try to be definite and sure about it and to live beneath the trees, where soft night winds blow, the long hot day of disappointment comes swiftly and the gritty dust from passing wagons gathers upon lips inflamed and made tender by kisses.
—  Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio
In your bare apartment,
you sat amongst boxes
and talked about running
to university in a town
where the winds blow
as hot as the inhabitants’ blood.
I looked at you
and thought about
all of the people I have had
this conversation with-
strangers who told me about
tiny islands they hoped to
one day sunbathe on,
friends who spoke about
their career opportunities in the
fast food industry,
their faces covered
in potato grease and stale smoke,
and my mother with her suitcase chest,
who occupies city after city.

I will tell you what I have
told all of them:
I hope that one day
you get where you’re going
and invite me to visit.
I will be in your future,
filled with blood and love,
if you want me to.
—  Call My Name, My Number Will Be The Same | Lora Mathis

To all of the wonderful people I have met over the years. I hope I see you on the street again someday.
Love is like a wind stirring the grass beneath trees on a black night,” he had said. “You must not try to make love definite. It is the divine accident of life. If you try to be definite and sure about it and to live beneath the trees, where soft night winds blow, the long hot day of disappointment comes swiftly and the gritty dust from passing wagons gathers upon lips inflamed and made tender by kisses.
—  Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio