Last night, I was in bed listening as Colin Murray played two great songs in a row, namely:
And I was reading the beautiful Anne Enright novel, The Gathering:
“As I open the fridge, my mind is subject to jolts and lapses; the stair you miss as you fall asleep. Portents. I feel the future falling through the roof of my mind and when I look nothing is there. A rope. Something dangling in a bag, that I can not touch.
“I have all my regrets between pouring the wine and reaching for the glass.”
And I felt so content.
(That said, I have an English Literature degree and I have NO IDEA where to put those quotation marks up there.)