“Hiiieee… Katherine. What a crazy world we’re living in. Be great to chat with you. All the best. See you soon. Ciao. Ania.”
'Ania Walwicz and I were born on the same day of the same month. She would be 70 this May and I should be 48, but I’m not sure really, which one of us was younger. She told me she didn’t like the idea of being 70. It wasn’t about slowing down or wanting to write an ending. ‘I am just at the start at the beginning of the tale in the end of a book at the start only 69 young only morning at a time only now only now and in my office now where I teach myself to be alive I am only alive now only now please let it go on some more…’ Ania often wrote in places full of people. Full of life. In her shared office, the State Library, in class with her students, food courts… she wrote in the midst of people rushing around, doing everyday boring things. Ania was never boring. She was a whirling dervish of creativity ‘...hoo hoo hoo here I go now my foot in leather slipper shod happy soft on shine floor now I turn I whirl I spin round and around now…’' (Introduction)
