@sofiainprint
Grey afternoons and devastating last pages.
On Gilead
1 months ago
I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for.
Thirty pages in and already underlining every other sentence. Robinson writes like she has all the time in the world, and somehow that makes every word feel urgent.
On The Road
1 months ago
You forget what you want to remember, and you remember what you want to forget.
Read this in one grey afternoon and just sat with it afterward. Bleak, yes, but the tenderness between father and son is the warmest thing I've read all year.