I still hear their voices.
love this series of essays, damon. you carry these stories and moments in time with such care.
"I leave the bookshop without looking at the clerk. I am not confident about doing this." Classic.
Such a beautiful essay, written with elegance & heart. I love how each
small anecdote put me in mind of something I had experienced; the circumstances infinitely different but the feelings were so relatable. I cherish my old people, too.
There is a quiet melancholy sorrow in your words that I recognize and, oddly enough, welcome. Like the comfort and warm embrace in the familiar.
love this series of essays, damon. you carry these stories and moments in time with such care.
"I leave the bookshop without looking at the clerk. I am not confident about doing this." Classic.
Such a beautiful essay, written with elegance & heart. I love how each
small anecdote put me in mind of something I had experienced; the circumstances infinitely different but the feelings were so relatable. I cherish my old people, too.
There is a quiet melancholy sorrow in your words that I recognize and, oddly enough, welcome. Like the comfort and warm embrace in the familiar.