“We weren’t happy together but we lived in a state of easy, mild contentment. We shared everything except the stupid fucking secret hanging round your neck. I imagined tiny photographs: portraits in sepia of your parents, their faces partially obscured by goitres. Meanwhile, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, maybe not even in a decade from now but one day: the planet would fall apart.” LoveInspirationalPastHappinessHopeSecretNovelFuturePhotographProseShort StoriesPlanetPortraitIreadbooksactuallyBooksactuallyMath Paper PressSepiaJon Gresham Book:We Rose Up Slowly Source: We Rose Up Slowly