Re-reading
Fiona Wright It’s only in this last year that I’ve started re-reading. I’ve always kept and collected my books; not all of them, there are many I’ve been content to trade in at the overstuffed and slightly mouldy Elizabeth’s Bookshop on King St that I use too often almost as a more expensive lending library, especially as I’ve moved and shifted through various sharehouses at the whims of landlords and the shifting allegiances of housemates. I’ve always held on to far too many books: almost all of the poetry, all the books I’ve worked on or written for, but especially…