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Daily Snippet # 3: Page 134 / 100 Words
Carys Davies. West. London: Granta, 2018.
In the daytime, while he hid in the forests, he slept, and when he woke in the dusk and there was a little light, he took out the dead man’s letters. He liked the crackle of the pages, the drawing of trees and grasses and animals. It was annoying he could not read what they said. He turned them over, these dry, patterned things, and wondered what mysteries they contained. He would have liked it if Devereux or Mr. Hollinghurst had taught him to read. He would have liked it if they’d instructed them in both their languages, but they…
