There's a canvas that hangs on a wall in my house, next to a row of four bookshelves.
The bookshelves are filled to the brim with words, housing hundreds of stories and lives and fictional worlds. The books are stacked and the shelves are full of so many bits and pieces that make up the person I am. They are overflowing with tcotschkes and pages underlined and covers bent back.
And beside these overflowing bookshelves hangs a single canvas.Read More