He lives far away now and I don’t know what his reading habits are because all of our conversations now start with ‘We never dance together any more, you and I …’ and end with ‘Well fuck YOU.’ Like all true friendships. When I’d run out of books to read and I didn’t have any money to buy anything new from the charity shop down the road I’d wander up to his room and see what I could borrow from him. This was one of those days. He was sitting on his bed reading and I told him that I needed something new to read and he told me to go ahead and take something. All of his books were stacked up on a really high shelf and so I stood on the edge of his bed and leaned over to claw them off and onto the floor before rummaging through them. There sat The Da Vinci Code. It had been out a while and I hadn’t read it. I’d heard mixed reviews; one of my friends becoming so in love with it that he bought a special illustrated edition and would cradle it in his lap each night, one friend saying it was a bit of a page turner, and the friend that I wanted to borrow the book from who was still sat in his bed reading some epic fantasy, who had told me that it was shit.
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