London Book Review Magazine Romane & Geschichten

--- The response that mattered most arrived in April. It was not a review. It was a letter—a handwritten letter, forwarded by the publisher, from a woman in the north of England who had read the book in February when it had appeared in her local library. The letter was written on blue paper, the kind that was sold in packets at stationery shops, the paper with the watermark that indicated it was good quality without being expensive. The handwriting was careful—the handwriting of someone who had taken time to form the letters correctly, who had perhaps written multiple drafts before settling on the final version.

His words not mine. The thing with living in London is the amazing atmosphere. The calm which is found in the busiest of the corners or the friendships made in the weirdest of the situations. London isn't about the stereotype tea or the endearment 'love'. It is the beauty that caught people's attention. The hotel room was pretty cozy. A bed, closet, a dressing table and a washroom. One of the walls of total window. I was laying on the bed while enjoying the scene. I had taken two advils and while putting them back the whole tablets spilled. Being the lazy person I am I left it as it is.