my mum used to say that you had two hands:one to help yourself,and one t help others". then she sighed "though sometimes i wonder if the hand we use to help others moves a bit slower and with less purpose than the one we use to help ourselves".

And I suddenly feel like Pinocchio after he’s been swallowed; dome roof with curved steel beams like a whale’s ribs, the moon and Milky Way right there at the yawning shutter of its mouth.

Lately I’d been wondering what piece Mum took with her when she died, and I’d been thinking about the Winnie I would have been if she hadn’t.

Maps lie.Or at least, they don’t always tell the truth.They’re like us humans that way.

I was eleven when everything started and twelve by the end. But that’s another way that maps don’t tell the whole truth – because it felt like the distance I travelled was a lot further than that.

Anika had the door halfway closed, but she paused at my question.‘My mum used to say that you have two hands: one to help yourself, and one to help others. So yes, I think it’s a good thing.’ Then she sighed. ‘Though sometimes I wonder if the hand we use to help others moves a bit slower and with a little less purpose than the one we use to help ourselves.’And with that, she closed the door.

I don’t know if I can put it into words just yet, this feeling like something’s ending and I have to be close to it.

Books are family. Books are community.