Har precis läst ut romanen The River Home av Hannah Richell
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Smakbit sid. 69
“Gone were the cold mornings working at the market and those painfully slow hours modelling naked at he art college, where, lulled by the sound of charcoal moving over paper or brushes caressing canvas, she had killed time by disappearing inside her own head, letting her imagination run wild as she made up fantastical worlds and stories.”
There were old cinema tickets and lipsticks, a beaded necklace lying tangled with a pair of headphones. Beside a dusty lamp, she saw her sister´s penknife lying discarded next to a half-empty bottle of patchouli oil. She reached out and tested its weight in her palm before releasing the blade and turning it to catch the light. “