A heart-touching post that reminds me how powerful stories are, how important it is to pass them on.
This year, my dearest treasure is an anthology of stories, poems, essays, and the making of poems.
Its story is one that I am both ashamed and thrilled to tell. Before I chose it for this post, I searched thoroughly for a replacement. But there was none.
Sometime in February 2011, I felt low. Too low. The lowest I have ever felt. So I thought I could buy some pills.
In the morning, I went around town buying them from different shops till I had 280 of them. Then I bought 500ml of water and made my way to Ngong Hills, into the forests and bushes there. I wanted to just lie down and forget the world for good.
But before I could do that, I, somehow, remembered my books and a fierce sense of jealousy gripped me. I said, “Who’s going to have those books?” I couldn’t remember one…
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