Kettle in Winter
"The sweet smell of decaying paper appeals to me no longer. It is too closely associated in my mind with paranoiac customers and dead bluebottles." (~Orwell "Bookshop Memories," 1936)
“I lurch between sadness and cheer.
I toe the closed door to dejection
I glimpse the sunlit sky turn gray in a minute
The swirling snowflakes prancing everywhere.
I close the door shut and look toward the window.
Fill the kettle to boil. Will soak the tea leaves and stop the keening.
You know, it’s still winter in New England.”
It’s almost spring. My hopes for a summer walking among flowers, trees, overlooking streams and reservoirs are good and firm. My Wordle game is strong. Coffee and Wordle are my first steps toward serenity each morning.
And, I want more readers for Instincts of Beauty. No surprise there. I write 95% for myself and 5% (perhaps) for public adulation and a few hundred readers. Many of you have been generous readers. Help me find others. Here’s the pitch.
Use the QR code and buy directly from Flipkart for Rs. 150
OR Kindle for Rs. 100
Venmo for $6.50 plus $2.00 shipping to:
or check to:
Amit Shah, 39 Whitman Street, Somerville, MA 02144
I love Orwell for many reasons and one of them is that he worked in a second-hand bookshop. I worked in bookstores too and constantly took measure of everyone who walked through the doors.