I’ve just reserved this book from the library (which is sitting in the repository as it’s out of print), so it’s making its way to a branch near me. You’ve got to love Singaporean efficiency for that, and its times like this that you are thankful for it.
The book came to my attention after seeing this image floating on FFFFOUND:
“Love isn’t an act, it’s a whole life. It’s staying with her now because she needs you; it’s knowing you and she will still care about each other when sex and daydreams, fights and futures—when all that’s on the shelf and done with. Love—why, I’ll tell you what love is: it’s you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one, each of you listening for the other’s step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime’s talk is over.”
Don’t you think that all it takes for you to buy a book, to get you dreaming, is just one paragraph of words, all ordinary in itself, but arranged in a way so beguiling and enthralling that it makes you want to write, to create, or simply just walk away from the experience feeling like something in you has changed, like how the colours around you take on some deeper, mysterious hue, or allow you to realise how much more beautiful the one person who matters the most to you, is when she smiles or takes your own hand in hers?