book number eleven: the enchanted by rene denfeld

hello, hello

november has fallen upon us. just like that. almost through with 2016. and what a year it’s been. although it’s probably a tad too early to start reminiscing about it all. i shall wait for just a while longer and actually do what i came here to do: introduce the new book. funnily enough, rene denfeld’s “the enchanted” wasn’t actually meant to be book number eleven, but in fact one of our very first ones (if not the actual first one, but my memory is a tad cloudy), and somehow, for delivery issue reasons, become our choice for november, as it seemed like a book one simply must read when it’s nice and chilly outside. the novel’s story is centered around a death row prison inmate, who tries to flee his dire situation through the magic of books and the power of imagination. if that doesn’t sound like the perfect fireplace-hot-chocolate-in-hand-and-a-warm-blanket-around-one’s-shoulders-read, then i don’t know what does.

as for me, i’m struggling to settle back into actually staying somewhere for longer than three weeks (an occurrence which was unheard of in my life since june), and trying to deal with suddenly being gone again. as you already said, it was ever so lovely to be spending at least some quality time with you before i left, all semi-hallowe’en-y. on the real hallowe’en, marco and i pseudo dressed up and went to an hour long scary walk, so scary, in fact, that the three girls who were in our group and walked just behind us literally clung onto me, my coat, and especially my hands, for the duration of the whole hour. once we had returned to the safety of my bedroom, we started watching a horror movie, although i fell asleep halfway through, still exhausted by the two-hour delay my sodding flight had on sunday night. anyway. tomorrow is graduation, on saturday, too, many things ahead. i want to curl up in bed with a book just thinking about it.

i hope you enjoy your great weekend ahead to the fullest and i look forward to speaking to you soon.

in missingness,

gioia

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