A decade ago I thought it was a Japanese thing. Like her grandfather's meditations. But it's not. It's just Rachel."Coming up to Woolongong," I said."...mmm."Half an hour later I said "We're nearly there. Shoreline or Wharf?" Wharf?" Just the other side of the river. On Wharf Road." Oh. Let's stop there."In a few minutes we were there. It was still before noon."You will talk to me later?" I promise." Any hints?"Rachel smiled. "Not really. I'm not happy and it's not clear to me what to do."After. The books that Debbie loved more than any others were books written or illustrated by people that she knew. It was fun to read a book and know that she bought groceries from that person, or went to the same Bank as the author. Sometimes the authors she knew wrote about real life, and Debbie recognized people and places in the book. Other friends wrote fantastic stories that were as far away from real life as one could imagine. Science fiction Mike, her accountant, wrote a book featuring. More

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