12 May 2026

A week with Calvino

I gave myself one city a night from Invisible Cities and nothing more. By the weekend I had read fifty pages and remembered every one of them, which almost never happens.

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28 March 2026

On rereading the books we loved first

A childhood favourite came back to me from a second-hand shelf, its spine soft as cloth. Reading it again at this age was less nostalgia than a quiet argument with my younger self.

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9 February 2026

In praise of marginalia

I used to keep my books spotless. Now I write in them — small pencil notes, a date, a question mark. The clean copy was never really mine; the marked one is.

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