No, not Kim du Toit, or Kim Crawford, but Kim, by Rudyard Kipling. I picked up a clean early edition in it’s original slipcase. Unread. Printed when I was a tiny baby, and still in excellent condition with it’s original illustrations.

It took me a very long time to read, because I only read two pages at a time. See, when I have read every word he has written, I will be done- there will not be any more.

I can’t afford to reread too much stuff, my reading list is huge. So when I touch each author I touch him briefly and for the last time, most likely. So I will savor the good stuff, and fight my way through the bad, and tell anyone who feels otherwise to piss up a rope.