The truth in fiction

You can get a lot of truth from a made-up story.

Another great card / image from Indexed, a book tells a story openly, but perhaps the best insight we get from it is the story that plays out inside our head.

Spinning on the ideas the book delves into, or simply how it relates to our own stories.

Finished Open City by Tehu Cole on the balcony over the weekend, and one of the highlights is right in line with that same sentiment.

on to a bit of longer a side note, 

Open City was one of those books that made it's way onto my radar, then picked up kindle ed and read almost instantly - in less than a month in total. Which is high "praise" in this day of digital access and overview. 

At any given time my two main wish lists for kindle books hover at or around titles 20 each (non fic and genre respectively , with another 6-10 ongoing or waiting in line in the app, and a total of 40-50 in a more long term limbo of assorted niche list.

back to the story

Our narrator reflects on a meeting with his neighbour [SPOILER - ALBEIT SMALL], and learning that the wife has passed away.

I didn’t switch on the light. A woman had died in the room next to mine, she had died on the other side of the wall I was leaning against, and I had known nothing of it. I had known nothing in the weeks when her husband mourned, nothing when I had nodded to him in greeting with headphones in my ears, or when I had folded clothes in the laundry room while he used the washer. [location 291]

A feeling of both being so close, yet closed out at the same time. The city is open, But are we, the people living in it? How can we live within a few feet of each other, and yet hardly interact? How many of your ten or hundred closest do you know at all? A friendly nod? A name? Some story or context?



-...and the sun is making art outside as this is written, painting the clouds in shades of yellow, gold, orange, pink... it is summer at last, and fully