I’ve decided to start posting about the books I read. I read a lot, and I read a fairly wide variety of books. I love talking about books and I love getting recommendations for what to read next, so feel free to join in the conversation in the comments below.
much love, friends.
– e xx
I read much of The Year of Magical Thinking on the train. I did a lot of my reading on the train last semester. Filled with work and uni, my weeks were busy; the train is my time out. My deep-breath space. My no-obligations, can’t do anything about that right now wild card. My reading nook.
Usually I could get a seat, although for the 7.29 limited express via the city loop on Tuesdays and the ‘sometime during the peak hour’ Wednesday evening train I’m standing up all the way. I don’t mind, so long as I can face forward.
Sometimes I would close the book and stare out the window and the greenery rushing by and try not to sob, the heart-wrenching words of Joan Didion kicking me in the guts. Trains aren’t great for reading books like this. I don’t want to be around people when I’m reading something like this.
Time for something completely different. Yes, that’s right, it’s time for the annual quick-review-of-books-I-have-finally-had-time-to-read-now-that-I-moved-into-a-stable-house-and-have-free-time!
Oh, that’s not a thing? Also the name is too long? Party poopers. Ah, well, we’re doing it anyway. Books are great gifts. You should totally get a book for someone this Christmas. Give the gift of another world. Continue reading
It’s what you call flowers that hang over fences and reach over footpaths, begging you to take them home. (When I say you, I mean me. And when I mean me, I mean, I got the term from Brigid Lowry).
So you take a walk, refreshing yourself after work, perhaps; or maybe you can’t sleep; you want to lose weight; you like chasing butterflies… any or all of the above, or perhaps a new reason, one you thought up all on your own. There are as many reasons to take a walk as there are people; as many as there are walking paths, footpaths, roads, landmarks, trees, flowers, stars in the sky.
You see a flower hanging over the footpath. Maybe it’s so far over that you will run into it unless you duck or bob or weave. Maybe it’s just peeking over shyly, like you were at the club on Saturday night, wishing that cute boy would come over and ask you to dance. Maybe it’s on the nature strip, in a bed in a public garden, maybe it’s right in front of your feet.
Say hello. Whisper sweet nothings into its petals. Stroke its leaves and inhale its sweet fragrance. Take it home and place it in a glass, or a bud vase, or a kitsch retro teapot. Make friends with it and let it into your heart. When it dies, say goodbye and thank you for the ride, for making your day one with a flower in it.