Every year he forgot. Well, no. He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart. And today, of all days…
Night Watch by Terry Pratchett
drew that a few years ago, but never posted anywhere. might as well post it now
“But here’s some advice, boy. Don’t put your trust in revolutions. They always come around again. That’s why they’re called revolutions.”
Happy glorious 25th of May!
It wasn’t many steps to Treacle Mine Road and as he turned towards the Watch House a flash of colour caught his eye. And there it was, overhanging a garden wall. Lilac was common in the city. It was vigorous and hard to kill and had to be. The flower buds were noticeably swelling.
He stood and stared, as a man might stare at an old battlefield.
…they rise hands up, hands up, hands up…
-Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
(image description: illustrations in purple of lilac flowers surrounding a metal helmet and the words ‘how do they rise up…’)