Riverbed av Rangleklods
Denne gruppa var det Anna som tipset meg om. Digger!
John Lennon
It is December again. My birthday. It is also the day when John Lennon was shot. A man went up to him and shot him outside his home in New York, wife next to him. Simply shot him. I can't understand it; won't for days. "The good die young," says Jenny Penny during our phone conversation. "Why?" I ask. But she pretends not to hear me, pretends that the line is bad. She always does that when she doesn't have an answer. I go to bed early that night, inconsolable. I don't even blow out the candles on my cake. "One candle's already gone out in the world," I say. I leave my presents for another day. There is simply nothing to celebrate. Fra side 131 i When God Was a Rabbit av Sarah Winman.
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