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My Place in New Zealand



Holly, 12

A single bed in the corner, a quilt, sewn with love, lies on top. A tall bookshelf takes up almost one wall, only a few spaces for books remain. The coloured spines face outwards, each book waiting to be touched, to have its pages turned, its words drank up by hungry eyes. I run my fingers over them, hesitating at some, but moving on. My fingers finally settle, I remove the dust cover and feel the textured surface of the book. I move to the bed and recline on the pillows. A fresh papery smell billows out around me as I open the book. I lie in my favourite place, content to read for a while.

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