A small, brittle paged copy of Under Milk Wood, sits in my book case. A faded blue/green photograph of a town by the sea on the cover- and on the back, a price tag (from a long time ago) says “$1.60.” The pages are yellow – especially around the edges, like an old man’s white moustache stained with nicotine. As a child, I remember my father, in a brown velvet chair, musing on the sound of Richard Burton’s voice on a Sunday afternoon. Later, in my first year of University, I purchased a sturdy, (second hand) hard cover copy from Gleebooks, and sent it home for fathers day… more…