I have abandoned the trite piece I began last night. It served its purpose by showing me that poorly written best sellers can drive me running to lesser known works of translation. Now I am wholly absorbed in The Ravens.
It's not easy reading of a man's descent into madness, especially when my first husband did the same.
But, it is easier in the light of day with a beautiful cup of tea at my side. The oatmeal raisin cookie is from my mother's hand; the ginger molasses from my own. Preferred snacks of choice today, by my rainy window.
More on The Ravens, translated from the Swedish, when I finish it later.
