The work, the work...

I haven't touched my work for so long. Even as it goes unwritten so many experiences in the recent months have added new layers to it. But enough—a man must do his work in the end. I talk so much about it that I spend more time talking about it. And so I see that the first will be written this year, because the practical truth is that I am running out of income as well. It is good, life: it forces you to the edge of desperation and, having no time or recourse left, to action.

A few thoughts:

Two parts, three families, three primary characters.

A funeral scene, the wake.

A young boy sitting in the middle of the train station, crying in his folded arms. Everyone walks past him. Only the young man goes up to him and offers a tissue and a light pat on his shoulder.

His nurturing instinct, like he wants to protect all the helpless children in the world.

In the end, to love another being entirely, he realises that he can stand next to C as equals, not as a guardian.

And when all this is over: more work. I already have ideas for two more books. But first, this work, this book...