Charlotte Gray at Bending Breath
I found the book "Charlotte Gray" in a shared library in a hostel in
Tokyo at 3 am because I couldn't sleep, and I read it all in one sitting
and brought it home with me on the plane and haven't read it since, but
have thought about it many times. It remains a mystery in my head, a
mild obsession, a faint itch that I COULD scratch if I wanted to, but
choose not to. I like it almost better as a mystery.
Also, "found in a shared library in a hostel in Tokyo at 3 am because I
couldn't sleep" is one of those incredibly pretentious things you only
get to say a few times, and I am damned well going to take every
opportunity to do so. I'd say I'm sorry about this, but I'm not.
Also: I have no idea how I found this blog, but I read her obsessively. I
don't think she even knows I exist. Another mystery that I like to
leave as a mystery.
“Memory is the
only thing that binds you to earlier selves; for the rest, you become an
entirely different being every decade or so, sloughing off the old
persona, renewing and moving on. You are not who you were, he told her,
nor who you will be.”
1 comment:
Also: who else but an American would think to actually brag about their mystical abilities? And the rest of the world says we don't have a cultural identity.
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