![\"\"](\"https:\/\/veritysparks.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/03\/cafe_scheherezade.jpg\")
<\/a>So: in February, I read Caf\u00e9 Scheherezade<\/em> by Arnold Zable, Old Filth<\/em> by Jane Gardham, The Rosemary Tree<\/em> by Elizabeth Goudge, Real Tigers, Spook Street<\/em> and Slow Horses<\/em> by Mick Herron, Tracks<\/em> by Robyn Davidson and The Growing Summer <\/em>by Noel Streatfeild.<\/p>\nThey were all terrific! But I found I had copied these paragraphs from Cafe Sheherezade<\/em> in a notebook, so I suppose it might be the one that has stayed with me the most.<\/p>\n \u2018\u2026I would detour to a city garden. I would sit down on a park bench and observe a single leaf, covered in dew. Gradually a droplet would form. I would watch it slide on the leaf\u2019s veins. For a moment it would balance, on the edge. I would be willing it to hang on, to remain poised, fixed in time. But slowly it would slip over, and fall. And I would say, \u201cAh, Now I can go to work.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u2018This is what my wanderings have taught me; that the moment itself is the haven, the true sanctuary. If only we could hold on to that. And savour it. Perhaps then we would not be so inclined to tear each other to pieces.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Better late than never, I suppose. I thought I would post a round-up of my last month’s reading at the beginning of each new month, but here it is, and March is two thirds of the way through. Am I … Continue reading <\/a><\/p>\n