... For Home Is A Magnet That

Time Had A Way Of Moulding People Into Shapes They Themselves No Longer Recognised.

Percy Climbed The First Step, Then The Next, Remembering The Thousands Of Times She'd Run Through The Door, In A Hurry To Get To The Future, To Whatever Was Coming Next, To This Moment.

Ah, Well. Life's Too Short For Moderation, Wouldn't You Say?

Only People Unhappy In The Present Seek To Know The Future.

My Fingers Positively Itched To Drift At Length Along Their Spines, To Arrive At One Whose Lure I Could Not Pass, To Pluck It Down, To Inch It Open, Then To Close My Eyes And Inhale The Soul-sparking Scent Of Old And Literate Dust.