A September Sunday: I am reading “The Blind Contessa’s New Machine” by Carey Wallace. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve read for a very long time. There is a sincerety and a delicacy, a devotion to detail. It’s the tale of the first writing machine, and the love story that came before and after.
But I’m scared. I know it won’t end well. I’ve read too many books to not see the signs. I fear what it will do to me, but still, I cannot stop. It’s the curse of the book worm.
* * *
I was right. It didn’t even end in tears, but in emptiness. A big hole where the hopes for a bright future should have been.
I hate it when they break my heart.
Katja Malmborg 