“ Yet what use against the deceit of a state are the memories of a child? ”
A dread filled me, a dread unlike any I had ever felt. Not the terror of God, or his angels, but the sickly fear of man.
~ Aminatta Forna
I learned about women -- how we are made into the women we've become, how we shape ourselves, how we shape each other.
If you want to know a country, read its writers.
The hollowness in his chest, the tense yearning, the loneliness he braces against, every morning until he can immerse himself in work and forget. Not love. Something else, something with a power that endures. Not love, but a memory of love.
