‘Tis the season.
I’m making up a list in my head and I realise the list is shorter this year.
One I’m sorry to see go.
One quite the opposite.
One just isn’t here anymore.
I tend to give books.
A book comes wrapped and you know it’s one from the shape alone.
But you don’t know what book it is till you open it.
Few things seem to preserve their mystery so well after announcing themselves so plainly.
Books are also how I approach friendship. Certainly how I hope people feel being friends with me.
I know it’s you at a glance.
But I want to know what you are. What you're like.
And even if I know what you're about I won’t skip to the end.