Anyhow, during this time I was working with a wide-eyed woman named Robin. She and I shared a love of literature and one day while she and her daughter were out shopping, she purchased a book for me. Yes, a Truman Capote book. An old paperback, a yellow stained brittle paged of a book. It smelled of warehouse dust but wore its age wonderfully.
Lastly, this is my book review and it will be unconventional; as I am unconventional. Art is interpreted differently by all. So you may not like my review. It is okay but I hope you continue reading. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me. I respect differences and actually welcome them, without it we would be rigid animals.
Thanks for your time. Thank you Robin for your gift many years ago and I’m finally reading it.