Shutter Island

I spent the week reading Shutter Island. I bought the book on Tuesday and finished it Saturday afternoon before venturing out into the torrential and insistent rain and seeing the movie in theaters. I have to recommend to anyone who likes a good story to check this one out. Read the book first, and I only say that because it's a better experience to go in knowing the story before seeing the movie. You'll know why when you do. I was absolutely blown away by the book and film, and I can't wait to read and watch it again throughout my life.

I've also spent the week trying to figure out why I've been getting headaches (apparently I need glasses), so I've had little time to write, let alone a blog. I feel bad about that, and I don't know why. Maybe because I feel like I should be writing a little bit every day?

Here's a change from The Photograph I wanted to share:

-- Original Edit --

Lily tugged on her sweater and examined her breasts. They were new a new toy, foreign, continuously growing, and she liked them … a lot. How could she not? They made her feel beautiful and confident; they made her feel like she was part of a secret club. She was sure she could get Tommy Hornerbeck to want her like she wanted him. Attention wasn’t going to be a problem, anymore. The rest of seventh grade wasn’t going to be a problem, either. With these new babies, Lily felt an overwhelming sense of power.

‘God, I love these things,’ she said, pressing her breasts up against her chest. ‘They’re so firm!’ Lily sidled up against Missy, shook her chest from side to side, and said, ‘check them out, Miss; they’re like jello.’

-- New Edit --

Stephanie hid her face under the lip of her jacket, fighting off a blast of cold air.

Here she goes again, she thought, watching Lily tug on her sweater and examine her breasts for the thousandth time that morning. Doesn’t she know what day it is today? Yet a part of her understood it: those breasts were new a new toy, foreign, continuously growing, and Stephanie knew how much Lily liked them … a lot. How could she not? They made her feel beautiful and confident; they made her feel like she was part of a secret club. Stephanie couldn’t understand it by experience, but she wasn’t dumb; she knew how the world worked – sex appeal went a long way. But the other part of her was starting to feel left out.

Watching Lily was like watching her baby cousin open his eyes for the first time: she kept touching her breasts, shaking them, flaunting them. She was so sure she could get Tommy Hornerbeck to notice her; she wouldn’t shut up about it, either. It was driving her mad.

‘God, I love these things,’ said Lily, pressing her breasts up against her chest. ‘They’re so firm!’ Lily sidled up against Stephanie, shook her chest from side to side, and said, ‘check them out, Steph; they’re like jell-o.’

---

So I wonder which you like better?

Paul