The Fifth Mrs Brink

35080452.jpg– Fiction is the most dangerous place in the world; that’s where truth lives. –

– There is no peace in fear for a loved one. No place to hide in the face of death. I read and wrote through the nights, stared into darkness. –

– Water tells my story. –

– Languages come to me. There is no other way of describing it. After an initial intimidating few months of frustration, they seep into me. It is a process I can think of only as osmosis. The moment I find myself surrounded by a language, it enters through my mind’s pores into my consciousness. I think, dream and live it. –

– Memoir is as close to a recollected truth as I dare to come, and there is no one to protect me. It is selective, structured, but no less sensitive. –

– It moves in with you. A creature you did not invite, cannot control or tame. Grief is wild and unpredictable, at first completely inscrutable. It speaks an unknown language and renders yours inadequate. But in the beginning there is silence. –

– May the skies be generous with light. –

https://karinamagdalena.com/

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