I thought I'd left Frost's poem behind, but he had maintained his grip on me all these years. Recently I was chatting about what the future looks like with my counsellor Toni, when she asked, “What are you scared of?”
With Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life, I needed some space between takes. I picked it up by chance in the library in 2017, and I only read half of the blurb before I knew I wanted to give it a go.
After what happened in our city on Friday, how can we face a week like normal?
How do we qualify the depth of laughter, the full weight of a “thank you”, the catching of our breath in our throat?