currently reading (at snailβs pace)
iβve never juggled between such vastly different, yet equally heavy genres before. one boggles my mind with yet another unexplored aspect of indian history, another makes me realise how little i know about the world, and the last one couldβve just been a twitter thread.
βwe said goodbye to our mothers. theyβd been around all our lives, but weβd never properly seen them. theyβd been bent over washing tubs or cooking pots, their faces red and swollen from heat and steam, holding everything together while our fathers were away at sea, and nodding off every night on the kitchen chair, with a darning needle in hand. it was their endurance and exhaustion we knew, rather than them."
- we, the drowned by carsten jensen
