Did some housework in the afternoon and was tidying the shoe racks.
I need to stop buying shoes/slippers/sandals because I am not a caterpillar and only have a pair of feet.

How would you like to be in my shoes?


(My poor sad feet)

Anyway I'm almost done reading The History Of Love by Nicole Krauss, and the book is LOVELY, in every sense of the word.

Just had to share a couple of my favourite excerpts from the book:

1) Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering.

2) When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were thirteen they got into a fight and for three weeks they didn't talk. When they were fifteen she showed him the scar on her left breast. Their love was a secret they told no one. He promised her he would never love another girl as long as he lived. What if I die? she asked. Even then, he said.

3) For her sixteenth birthday he gave her an English dictionary and together they learnt the words. What's this? he'd ask, tracing his index finger around her ankle, and she looked it up. And this? he'd ask, kissing her elbow. Elbow! What kind of word is that? and then he'd lick it, making her giggle. What about this? he asked, touching the soft skin behind her ear. I don't know, she said, turning off the flashlight and rolling over, with a sigh, onto her back. When they were seventeen they made love for the first time, on a bed of straw in a shed. Later-when things happened that they could never have imagined-she wrote him a letter that said: When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything?

4) If at large gatherings or parties, or around people with whom you feel distant, your hands sometimes hang awkwardly at the end of your arms-if you find yourself at a loss for what to do with them, overcome that sadness that comes when you recognise the foreignness of your own body-it's because your hands remember a time when division between mind and body, brain and heart, what's inside and what's outside, was so much less. It's not that we've forgotten the language of gestures entirely. The habit of moving our hands while we speak is left over from it. Clapping, pointing, giving the thumbs-up: all artifacts of ancient gestures. Holding hands, for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together. And at night, when it's too dark to see, we find it necessary to gesture on each other's bodies to make ourselves understood.

5) "If I had a camera," I said, "I'll take a picture of you everyday. That way I'd remember how you looked every single day of your life."

"I look exactly the same."

"No, you don't. You're changing all the time. Everyday a tiny bit. If I could, I'd keep a record of it all."

6) And if the man who once upon a time had been a boy who promised he'd never fall in love with another girl as long as he lived kept his promise, it wasn't because he was stubborn or even loyal. He couldn't help it.

7) One thing that I am never going to do when I grow up-Is fall in love, drop out of college, learn to subsist on water and air, have a species named after me, and ruin my life.

8) Then he almost but didn't say the two sentences he'd been meaning to say for years: part of me is made of glass, and also, I love you.

9) When I'd come in, she'd call me into her bedroom, take me in her arms, and cover me with kisses. She'd stroke my hair and say, 'I love you so much,' and when I sneezed she'd say, 'Bless you, you know how much I love you, don't you?' and when I got up for a tissue she'd say, 'Let me get that for you I love you so much,' and when I looked for a pen to do my homework she'd say, 'Use mine, anything for you,' and when I had an itch on my leg she'd say, 'Is this the spot, let me hug you,' and when I said I was going up to my room she'd call after me, 'What can I do for you I love you so much,' and I always wanted to say, but never said: Love me less.

10) "Mom?" I said. She turned. "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course, darling. Come here."

"I need you to be-" I said, and then I started to cry.

"Be what?" she said, opening her arms.

"Not sad," I said.

11) He fell in love. It was his life.