“Books are a treasure, you have to treat them with love, and scribbling in them would blemish them.”
But no one must have told the owner of this book, because many pages were annotated. They were small thoughts that had been jotted down at a moment’s notice, surely because there had been no other place to do it.
There were times that I had to put in a lot of effort to try to understand what it said. It seemed from the handwriting that it had been written down in a rush or… I thought, “Maybe she did it secretly, fearing that someone would see it.”
I imagined a person on her knees, leaning forward to reach the floor, where the little book would be and writing in it, there in that empty room where there would certainly not have been a table. She probably only had an old cot where she could
