When I was a kid, I remember a huge tin drum standing right next to our kitchen sink. It was taller than I was and was used to store water. Water, precious water, worth everything in summer. Do I exaggerate? I was around 5 or 6 then. Old enough to…
An old post…one that I didn’t deem ‘good enough’ for publishing. But now I think the rawest, deepest expressions are probably the best. And anonymous or not, this blog has been about my personal expression. So here it it…the year that was. I’m glad to get it off my mind….
It’s hard to supress that innate sense of superiority in pulling out a book and placing it in the ‘right’ stack along with others in the genre. So pop fiction to the sides, classics in the middle, bestsellers on top. Then realisation strikes that the dynamics of cataloguing work differently in a street-stall.
How do you truly forgive when you cannot forget?
