"here we are," i say, showing you the living room. a fire spits and crackles in front of soft armchair and a deep sofa littered in cushions and blankets. "make yourself comfortable." i leave to pick you some tea from the garden and you are left alone with the books.
every wall is peppered with clumsy shelves; full to bursting, lined and stacked and squashed with books. you get the feeling you could learn everything and read every story from right here.
every wall is peppered with clumsy shelves; full to bursting, lined and stacked and squashed with books. you get the feeling you could learn everything and read every story from right here.
genres
