A friend who lost his partner very suddenly told me that she had left her book open on the arm of the chair, saving her place, as she often did. For months he felt unable to move it; something about the longing for her to come back and complete her life with him was reflected in that unfinished book. For nearly a year, no-one sat on the chair. No-one moved the book. Then one night he sat down in the chair and read the book from beginning to end.
A friend who lost his partner very suddenly told me that she had left her book open on the arm of the chair, saving her place, as she often did. For months he felt unable to move it; something about the longing for her to come back and complete her life with him was reflected in that unfinished book. For nearly a year, no-one sat on the chair. No-one moved the book. Then one night he sat down in the chair and read the book from beginning to end.
