The mountain rose sharply, as symmetrical and uncomplicated as a child’s drawing. The sky above was midwinter blue. At home in England they would be expecting snow at this time in December, but here, so close to Sicily, the wind off the salt water was mild. The small boat barely rocked. He had been looking forward to this break from the reality of London, work and the routine of his life, which lately had seemed more meaningless than ever. The recent death of his wife had given him an acute feeling of loss, but not in the way he had expected. There was no deep ache of bereavement. It forced him to realize that perhaps he had felt alone for a long time. Would three weeks on Stromboli, a volcanic island in the Tyrrhenian, accomplish anything, change anything inside him? Would it heal the sense of helplessness, the bitterness of endless small failures? Maybe. It would certainly give him a long time to think, uninterrupted by the petty details of life. He was in his midforties, yet he felt old.
What do You think about A Christmas Escape (2015)?
