Reading Elif Shafak’s ‘The Islands of Missing Trees,’ sent by a friend.
It’s an apple, not a fig tree, but the voice Elif gives to the fig tree in her story would be true for my apple tree, which now rains fruit. The way she puts it …
… to sit under its branches is like a place that makes one forget, even if for just a few hours, the world outside and its immoderate sorrows …
I know, not many of us have a spot to sit alone or with friends to enjoy peace and forget about the troubles in the world for a while. But I thought I share my blessings. And yet …
‘We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.’ – William James
Right now thunder growls nearby and a few raindrops drum on the skylight.
Sorry for the duplicated tags. Can’t delete them, and finally, after an hour, I lost patience.
Course of Mirrors 