Monday, 20 September 2010
Pretty Thoughts, but only Thoughts
Today I realised how fast the future is rushing towards us. This time next year, I won't be lounging on my bed, drinking tea and reading Shakespeare; I will have to be doing something proper. Something real. It will be the end of this lazy, hazy life I've settled into, living with my parents and writing stories on the backs of appointment slips at work. Taking photos of my dogs and garden and shoes. Wouldn't it be nice if time would slow down, so that this year lasted forever? I want to live in a library. I'll stay up at night and wait for Henry DeTamble to show up; it's bound to happen sometime. Maybe - and now here's an idea - I should open a bookshop in a little country village, and I can live in a cottage with big windows that let in lots of sunlight, and have an armchair by the fire and a big garden that I can sit in during summertime. My only company will be characters in novels, and Renard, the pet fox that I will most certainly have. Doesn't that sound better than the future?