“It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.”
I’ve started reading again. The usual culprits of course. Jodi Picoult’s Nineteen Minutes because I know what it is like to be bullied, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows because… lets leave that for later.
And Roald Dahl. Word by word, I find sense and beauty and purpose in his books again.
There is pain here, but it’s made me realise and appreciate the joy. There are tears, there are regrets. They hide in corners but they can never quite cover themselves well. Camouflage. Such a strange word.
And it’s september.
And I have to leave.
In other things: