På söndagarna är det dags för En smakebit på söndag som Astrid Therese Betraktninger håller i. Alla delar med sig ett stycke ur den boken just nu läser. Inga spoilers!
Imorgon är det dags att börja jobba igen efter julledigheten. Det är verkligen med blandade känslor. Vi får ju flytta in i den nyrenoverade delen av skolan men allt ska ju packas upp också…
Jag har i alla fall haft en skön ledighet med mycket läsning och återhämtning så förhoppningsvis är jag redo för vårterminen. Idag har vi varit på kalas och firat Thor som fyllde 8 år idag. Tänk att den lilla plutten blivit så stor.
Denna veckas smakbit kommer från Babel av R.F. Kuang som jag hittade på biblioteket förra veckan. Smakbiten kommer från sidan 3:
By the time Professor Richard Lovell found his way through Canton’s narrow alleys to the faded address in his diary, the boy was the only one in the house left alive.
The air was rank, the floors slippery. A jug of water sat full, untouched by the bed. At first the boy had been to scared of retching to drink; now he was to weak to lift the jug. He was still conscious, though he’d sunk into a drowsy, half-dreaming haze. Soon, he knew, he’f fall into deep sleep and fail to wake up. That was what had happened to his grand-parents a week ago, then his aunts a day after, and then Miss Betty, the Englishwoman, a day after.
His mother had perished that morning. He lay beside her body, watching as the blues and purples deepened across her skin. The last thing she’d said to him was his name, two syllables mouthed without breath. Her face had gone slack and uneven. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth. The boy tried to close her filmy eyes, but her lids kept sliding back open.
