on simple pleasures and old friends

recently, an old friend of mine, who just so happens to be the only devoted reader of this blog, and is currently studying abroad, sent me a book. i haven't recieved ordinary mail in months (apart from annoying bank letters and such), and it was the sweetest surprise. a package from a distant land, weathered from all the hands that touched it, sent with love and care. and there's more! on the first side of the book there was, written in ink, an old fashioned dedication. it really made my day. the book itself is 'the passion' by jeanette winterson, and it sure is an interesting read. as the title says, it's a story of passion, obsession, war and love, but not in the melodramatic kind of way. the two main characters, vilanelle from venice and henri from a small village in france, meet in the midst of russian zero winter. they are both driven there by passion, but ther passions are very different one from another. apart from the captivating and inventive story, i especially love the rich, poetic style, that still manages to be very down-to-earth, in a magically realistic sort of fashion. vilanelle's descriptions of venice are among my favourite parts of the book. and there are also a few quotations that i find worth remembering:

'the cities of the interior are vast and do not lie on any map'

'there's a lot of talk about freedom. it's like the holy grail, we grow up hearing about it, it exists, we're sure of that, and every person has his own idea of where.'

'trust me. i'm telling you stories'