YESTERDAY
- Leona Lewis -


Wednesday.

Elizabeth Gilbert.

I haven't been able to put her book down since I started yesterday (and the days have been passing by like waiting forever for the tide to rise before getting the kayak out); I'd bring it to the dinner table, in front of the TV, at the cafe, in bed. I imagine myself reading at the backyard sipping tea but darn the mozzies, it's a slow, excruciating death sentence. I knew which book I would indulge in this holiday long before I stepped into Belle's. As I just wouldn't want to think much I have to be practical before she leaves for her hometown, I even bought a second copy to give to Adds for her birthday, I hope she likes it as much as I do, laughing along as I progress to the next chapter, and the next, and then 30.

I would've slipped into Elizabeth's shoes snuggly, comfortably. I feel at home reading what's in her mind, in her heart and in the pasta she's eating. If her shoes were for hire, I'd walk in them to explore my own unfictitious world of desires and possibilities. 

At the same time I wonder, why is Merlin dressed in the same colour as Clark Kent?

break