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Bokklubben (bokklubb) ,

339 bilder, 125 medl.

November 2016

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2015

Thursday 4 June 2015 photo 1/1

“If you don’t love, then nobody gets hurt. It’s easy to leave. It’s easy to lose. It’s easy to let go."
Someone found him in a laundry basket at the Quick Wash, wrapped in a towel, a few hours old and close to death. They called him Baby Moses when they shared his story on the ten o’clock news – the little baby left in a basket at a dingy Laundromat, born to a crack addict and expected to have all sorts of problems. I imagined the crack baby, Moses, having a giant crack that ran down his body, like he’d been broken at birth. I knew that wasn’t what the term meant, but the image stuck in my mind. Maybe the fact that he was broken drew me to him from the start.
It all happened before I was born, and by the time I met Moses and my mom told me all about him, the story was old news and nobody wanted anything to do with him. People love babies, even sick babies. Even crack babies. But babies grow up to be kids, and kids grow up to be teenagers. Nobody wants a messed up teenager.
And Moses was messed up. Moses was a law unto himself. But he was also strange and exotic and beautiful. To be with him would change my life in ways I could never have imagined. Maybe I should have stayed away. Maybe I should have listened. My mother warned me. Even Moses warned me. But I didn’t stay away.
Alltså, det är över två veckor sen jag läste ut boken, men jag vet fortfarande inte hur jag ska beskriva den. Eller ens om jag älskar eller hatar den. Allt jag vet är att jag inte kan släppa den. Redan innan jag började läsa den så var jag dragen till den som en magnet. Och på något sätt borde väl det vara en bra sak med en bok, att inte kunna släppa den?
“Five greats?"
“Five things that are great about today.
About life.
Go."

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“If you don’t love, then nobody gets hurt. It’s easy to leave. It’s easy to lose. It’s easy to let go."

Someone found him in a laundry basket at the Quick Wash, wrapped in a towel, a few hours old and close to death. They called him Baby Moses when they shared his story on the ten o’clock news – the little baby left in a basket at a dingy Laundromat, born to a crack addict and expected to have all sorts of problems. I imagined the crack baby, Moses, having a giant crack that ran down his body, like he’d been broken at birth. I knew that wasn’t what the term meant, but the image stuck in my mind. Maybe the fact that he was broken drew me to him from the start.

It all happened before I was born, and by the time I met Moses and my mom told me all about him, the story was old news and nobody wanted anything to do with him. People love babies, even sick babies. Even crack babies. But babies grow up to be kids, and kids grow up to be teenagers. Nobody wants a messed up teenager.
And Moses was messed up. Moses was a law unto himself. But he was also strange and exotic and beautiful. To be with him would change my life in ways I could never have imagined. Maybe I should have stayed away. Maybe I should have listened. My mother warned me. Even Moses warned me. But I didn’t stay away.

Alltså, det är över två veckor sen jag läste ut boken, men jag vet fortfarande inte hur jag ska beskriva den. Eller ens om jag älskar eller hatar den. Allt jag vet är att jag inte kan släppa den. Redan innan jag började läsa den så var jag dragen till den som en magnet. Och på något sätt borde väl det vara en bra sak med en bok, att inte kunna släppa den?

“Five greats?"
“Five things that are great about today.
About life.
Go."

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