I love books. Ever since I was a little child I have buried my nose in a book, and lost myself. You’d always find me attached to one, walking along, in the bath, on the sofa.
Everywhere.
I always dreamed of writing my own book one day. I never thought I’d be writing my own story.
Yet writing was the thing I turned to when Finley was born. i wrote. and wrote.
Every day.
And it wrote itself into a book.
Since then Finley’s story has featured in several books, through my words, or somebody else’.
6 books, from a life so short it is measured in memories.
But the thing about books that I love?
Books have a life of their own.
Books get up and walk around the country, the world.
Books gets handed from person to person.
The words on the page can put a plaster over a wound, can help a tear to fall, a smile to form.
A life can continue to be lived, in each person who reads his name.
