Ode to the bookish girls



There are some girls in my village who spend their days by river banks, watching the world pass by, and one girl who hoards flowers of every kind. Then there are some girls, bookish girls, with pleats resting on their shoulders and floral patterns on their dresses, who have taken over the library, with their languid figures and their face full of pallor, their lips stained a light pink and scattered freckles on their cheeks. CONTINUE READING...

Reading The Human Stain


There’s often a moment in a good book that stands out and becomes imprinted in our mind. It’s a moment that never dies, that feels alive, despite it being fiction, and it happens over again, every time someone picks up the book to read it for the first time. Moments like Mrs. Dalloway’s pause comes to mind, Captain Wentworth’s letter to Anne Eliot and practically everything Remedios the beauty does in One Hundred Years of Solitude. CONTINUE READING...

Reading A passage to india


Lost in the world of E.M. Forster while reading A Passage to India.

Let’s go to India darling. Let’s drink tea in the shadow of elephants and hear our voices reverberate in the Marabar Caves. Let us hush darling, come, come, so we can allow the quiet world of Forster to unfold. CONTINUE READING...