517 page murder mystery is too long for me. The Leopard, by Jo Nesbo is a well-crafted mystery, a bit gruesome, but would rather see it as movie, I think. The serial killer is finally apprehended, but there are several more chapters to go. What else is there to say? Unless the confessed killer is not the killer, that is.
From the book:
"Let's say that even those who believe themselves to be homeless occasionally discover that they have a home. A place where you imagine being buried one day."
I think rootless would be a better way of explaining it. Could be same difference, eh. I do not want to buried anywhere; cremation for me, even though sometimes the thought scares me. Will I feel myself being burned? No, right? Yet it was thought of being buried underground with bugs crawling all over me that decided me on cremation. Again: I would not be aware of either right? Still being buried is not for me ~ need to stay above ground where there is light and air. Even if I am not aware...
I often felt I was dropped down some place and did not belong. Until I arrived in Long Beach ~ felt at home; at home at last, my place in the sun. Miss family, yet still feel I am home. Never felt home anywhere on east coast. Living on streets I did not have a house (apartment to be exact) to go to ~ homeless, but at home. Perhaps I mean homeless but not that rootless feeling I got back east.
Okay, let me go read the rest of The Leopard and find out why there are more chapters left to read. Want to return books to library tomorrow and get some more.