She comes in flashes. In sudden heaves of insight. In moments when I laugh really hard and see white with eyes closed.
In the middle of the joy circle , I see her. I can hear her raspy treat.
As I try to call her out, she’s gone.
The most I can remember now : three books.
One about a one legged soldier and a ballerina. The other about a Samurai and a dragon. I remember my fascination with the design, the intrigue in both stories, the way my heart skipped as they fought fire, death,rising with valor above all things and worse.
Alas, I can’t remember the book titles.
2001. My first novel. Boarding school. The title is gone. The dread remains. Google hasn’t been of much use. We don’t have many libraries here either, but I understood fear by the end of that particular journey. There was a Windmill in it. And a strange power. I wish I can find that book today.
I love books. Leave me on an island with a book and I will get bored twice in a year.
When I find out the ending was what I suspected
When I get mad it wasn’t.
These are my forgotten fire starters. The books I long to find and re-read. The books that triggered my love for language and have driven me all these years to a life of creating and consuming words and stories.
I’m grateful I got burnt.
I know exactly what you mean Sai. We should read more fantastical things.
I started a recent book photography hobby on my Instagram. You should check it out.
Tchassa Kamga on Instagram: "I recently became obsessed with book photography and book design. To…
49 Likes, 2 Comments - Tchassa Kamga (@tchassakamga) on Instagram: "I recently became obsessed with book photography…
Have you read my recent poetry?