“My father didn’t cry, but he said that seeing me on the floor like that was the most horrible thing that’s ever happened to him. Then he described how he’d made these tourniquets using some torn-up sheets from my bed and held me until the paramedics got there. He said he kept telling me how much he loved me, over and over, in case hearing it helped me stay alive.”
— Michael Thomas Ford’s Suicide Notes (p67)
This be the feeling for 2018, yet it is no vice. Full credits to Emily Brynes on Instagram (@emilybrynes.poetry).
“She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to a cork board like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.”
— Jerry Spinelli’s Stargirl
A personal book review written for a book loved much.
Tell me if you have ever thought of that one stranger, or many more. Remembered the curve of their smile or the flecks of light in their eyes.
I have, and I know what it means to lie awake wondering where they have gone, and if they are still here.
Even as a child growing up, stories unspoken in people unmet fascinated me. Though crowds are not my fancy, and fears of being closed in fluctuate without warning, the idea of knowing people deeply remained an irresistible attraction.
Without uttering hello, I have already been given a thousand goodbyes.
Meet my read, Jon McGregor’s If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, an author who has done me no favour by augmenting my strange affection for nameless individuals. (more…)
Too beautiful to not share. Full credits to Daren Colbert on Instagram (@darencolbert).
Stories are wild creatures, the monster said. When you let them loose, who knows what havoc they may wreak?
— Patrick Ness’ A Monster Calls (p61) [an original idea by Siobhan Dowd]