5
" Today, unlocking the room and stepping into its dusty embrace, it struck her – the bareness, the
cobwebs in the corners, the dark squares on the walls where the maps had once hung, the
intricately designed tiles disappeared in filth, the urn-less, roseless emptiness, the laughter that
once was. Sighs everywhere, and echoes, the papery trail of ants through the ancient wood, the still,
suspended sheets of dust, and through it all, those memories, still alive, still alive. "
― , The Courtesans of Karim Street
7
" In two months, I think, my college job will end. In two months I will have no office, no college, no salary, no home. Everything will be different. But, I think, everything already is. When Alice dropped down the rabbit-hole into Wonderland she fell so slowly she could take things from the cupboards and bookshelves on the walls, look curiously at the maps and pictures that passed her by. In my three years as a Cambridge Fellow there’d been lectures and libraries and college meetings, supervisions, admissions interviews, late nights of paper-writing and essay-marking, and other things soaked in Cantabrian glamour: eating pheasant by candlelight at High Table while snow dashed itself in flurries against the leaded glass and carols were sung and the port was passed and the silver glittered upon dark-polished refectory tables. Now, standing on a cricket pitch with a hawk on my hand, I knew I had always been falling as I moved past these things. I could reach out and touch them, pick them off their shelves and replace them, but they were not mine. Not really ever mine. Alice, falling, looked down to see where she was headed, but everything below her was darkness. "
― Helen Macdonald , H is for Hawk