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At the heart of memory, is the stillness of time

At the heart of memory, is the stillness of time

At the heart of memory, is the stillness of time. (Manu Joseph, The Illicit Happiness of Other People)

I’ve always considered myself to be fiercely patriotic. I love Britain – its history and the down-to-earth attitude people have

He ate one of my bras.”“Ah. I see. Which one?”“An underwire,” she mumbled.“The black lacey one from Victoria’s Secret?”She folded her arms. “That would be the one.”Well, no one could fault the dog’s taste, Gid thought. Thatstingy bit of lace had always looked plenty appetizing to him, too.He forced his mind back to the matter at hand

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