Reflections of a working writer and reader
As I sit at my table, for days, months, years, slowly adding words to empty pages, I feel as if I were bringing into being that other person inside me, in the same way that one might build a bridge or a dome, stone by stone. As we hold words in our hands, like stones, sensing the ways in which each is connected to the others, looking at them sometimes from afar, sometimes from very close, caressing them with our fingers and the tips of our pens, weighing them, moving them around, year in and year out, patiently and hopefully, we create new worlds. Orhan Pamuk
The house started shaking last night after we turned the lights out to sleep. A few minutes before 1.00am the furniture in the room, the bed and the windows began rattling. Apparently, the epicentre of the quake, which registered a magnitude of 5.4, was in Market Rasen, about 50 miles to the south of us.
Everything is much quieter this morning.
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