The passage of time is a strange thing. You’re only slightly aware of changes to yourself taking place, but in other people it is more obvious, especially children or people you don’t see that often. So my squidgy little lump of a baby niece is now a leggy, bespectacled eight-year-old who occasionally comes out with profound insights on life (shared on the family WhatsApp, of course). And the naïf American ingénue with the amazing name whom I knew at University is now a mother of three who is not only cultured but also wise, to judge by her latest book.
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K C Murdarasi 