Some of my favorite "firsts" of the books I've read in February.
To begin with the old rigmarole of childhood. In a country there was a shire, and in that shire there was a town, and in that town there was a house, and in that house there was a room, and in that room there was a bed, and in that bed there lay a little girl; wide awake and longing to get up, but not daring to do so for fear of the unseen power in the next room; a certain Betty, whose slumbers must not be disturbed until six o'clock struck, when she wakened of herself 'as sure as clockwork' and left the household very little peace afterwards. It was a June morning, and early as it was, the room was full of sunny warmth and light.
A dripping faucet.
Crumbs and a pink stain on the counter.
Half of a skin-black banana that smells as old as it looks.
Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board.
In the time before we knew that we would be driven away, our lives uprooted, and our people scattered, Grandfather Jim Williams spent every spare minute tending his beautiful garden in Freedomtown. He loved that garden, and I loved him. The garden was my favorite place.
It was my aunt who decided to give me to the dragon.
It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers.
The story would have been a lot different if Matt's supervisor had been watching him when the machine first went away.
The Patron and the Crocus by Virginia Woolf.
43 minutes ago