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"If you were killed, I doubt I should receive a telegram-our friendship has always been too tenuous for others to be aware of it. Still, in my imagination, I receive a telegram. I see your name and I think, There goes the man I might have spoken to, had I only been able to open my mouth. You say that what is left of you is not worth much. I can only respond by assuring you it is worth a great deal-to me. Your friend, Gaunt."
Book: In Memoriam by Alice Winn
I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll write it in waves. In skies. In my heart. You'll never see, but you will know. I'll be all the poets, I'll kill them all and take each one's place in turn, and every time love's written in all the strands it will be to you.
Book: This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar, Max Gladstone.
Book: In Memoriam by Alice Winn
Book: Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yagisawa. Translated by Eric Ozawa.
I found joy in reading again and I want to scream loudly about it from my window but since that will probably end badly I'll share it here. I found joy in reading again.
"I do not care to be part of any group where you are not welcome. Your friend, Ellwood."
"Your letter made me laugh for which I am very grateful. It was a little like having you here. I have folded it up and put it in my inner pocket, you know, the pocket where people keep those miraculous Bibles that seem to stop many bullets in Daily Mail."
"I'm sorry. This is not what I intended to say. What I meant to say is this: You'll write more poems. They are not lost. You are the poetry. Yours, Gaunt."
"Thanks awfully for saying all that stuff about my poetry. It made me grin like anything. Send my love to Maitland, won't you? And keep some for yourself while you're at it. Yours, Elly."
Book: In Memoriam by Alice Winn.
Just finished this book and I don't know how to cope. I saw it was described as "the french Brokeback Mountain" and I don't think it quite fits and I'm not really sure what I was expecting from it but it surprised me in a good way.
It made me wish I understood french so I could read it in its original language and I might go back to try and learn the language after this just so I can't miss out french literature again.
I was not prepared for this to end, in fact, when I realised that what I had just read was the last word it made me want to scream because although it made sense, there was nothing else to say after all, I felt like I needed more from Thomas, I wanted more. And that's probably how Philippe felt all those years ago, I'm sure.
"I discover that absence has a consistency, like the dark water of a river, like oil, some kind of sticky dirty liquid that you can struggle and perhaps drown in."
Perfectly put there, just how I felt reading that last word.
"She'd laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and got drunk on it every night, he would have."
Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo
