When I was unwell and unworldly, my life was teeming with those who took advantage of my good nature until there was no good nature left. I turned off the tap and all the wordless people went to drink elsewhere. Even though I knew this would happen, I was still so surprised. Few remained who reached out with no motive, unprompted, and so I made a vow on my retreat back into literature to only match the energy of another.
All our lives, we turn to books, for solace, connection, and for reasons to live, as one must do in times like this, and I discovered, ‘The Light In The Dark – A Winter’s Tale’, by Horacio Clare. This book was a rescue branch away from the cracking ice of what I once thought was solid ground. It truly was a light in the dark. A scattering of neutrons gleaming over the snow. Even though we are now fast approaching spring, I am still bound by a long bitter winter, watching only for light, and waiting for the thaw.
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