it seemed like the only appropriate thing to say but there’s more, but that’s between the sofa, the duvet, my funny bone and me. it’s a pact of silence, a wordless curl, not that you would ever ask.
i’m not sure what it is either.
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it’s spring at last, and its colours are green and marigold; i pulled open the curtains and a shower of leaves blew by in front of me.
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i found julian barnes’ Love,etc in a cardboard box outside holloway park along with other several other books and an english lady came by and said those books were meant for distribution; it’s part of this programme by www.bookcrossing.com where an individual leaves his book to be picked up by strangers, who will continually leave it to pass it onto others.
it’s a serendipity trip of sorts, and it was the prettiest thing i’ve heard in a long time.
