Books: Publishing, Reading, Writing
I’ve been picking away at that rather odious job of cleaning the bookshelves and reshelving all my books, making sure they’re in order, because that’s the kind of reader I am … This is probably also a holdover from my days as a bookseller.
Anyway, it’s a job that needs to be done, but is somewhat like painting the Sydney Bridge – when I get to the end I must start all over again from the beginning. There’s no end of dust, grime, dead insects, dead lizards (no dead mice so far, this time), cat hair, and enough cobwebs that some might consider my name to be Haversham. Plus there’s the toll the sun and seaspray take on all the covers of these books, making them a uniform colour of blue and greasy to the touch.
This chameleon was alive when I discovered his hiding spot behind the Trollopes.
All…
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