made from |
The book I have borrowed and been reading
for the last few weeks, The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt, suffered minor burns last
night.
I’m not sure exactly how this occurred
having only discovered the fact on waking this morning, but I suspect falling
sparks from the open fire I was reading by late last night.
The book belongs to Jimmy who is also Bart,
a friend who sometimes lives in the nearby village when he is not lining in the
Californian mountains.
Jimmy, who is also Bart, is Dutch.
I haven’t burnt any of his books before, in
fact this is the first one I have borrowed so it is potentially very
embarrassing; even though I am not someone who regularly burns books I do have prior history.
However I do borrow books.
I have a couple on my shelves from Martin, though
those were rather lent by him than borrowed by me, I think he wanted to improve
the level of my conversation, and I have one on the table borrowed from Bob,
who is Bob.
This is the third book borrowed from Bob -
a satisfying phrase to write with its trilogy/triumph-ate of Bs – and so far
none have been burnt, though I am still to start the most recent.
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