A blog as diverse as my life has been

From Broken April, by Ismail Kadare: “His feet were cold, and each time he moved his numbed legs…”

The titles I plan to burry myself into to escape the cold

From The Island of Missing Trees, by Elif Shafak: “Once upon a memory, at the far end of the Mediterranean Sea, there lay an island so beautiful…”

From The Mystery of Three Quarters, by Sophie Hannah: “Hercule Poirot smiled to himself as his driver…”


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