thankyou, but photography is not a skill of mine, it is just becoming necessary to be visual. i loved your lines about crimson and red. made me think of d.h. lawrence essays and his poppies. you say things that are so very right, and eloquent.
yeah i wish i could include photography as a skill of mine, but its so defintely not. its just goodtimes to play around with and once in a while get lucky with something i personally enjoy looking at anyway.
but thank you. i had that line in my head all day & just didnt know what to do with it! i still wish i could figure out something more substantial for it. for now i'll just hold onto it until something else comes.
you dear, dear derya. i can NEVER tell you how much your comments just, mean. [she is oscillating betwixt a mild guise and the grotesque. but she is driving me to rent powdered wigs tomorrow, so i am grateful to her for that privilege]
we shall not be them, or be bound to their dispositions! we shall sever all nerves of nervous similarity and run [as fast as we can!], escape and eat pistachios (for that seems to be an appropriate thing when one is trying not to be one's mother!)
sorry. natalia needs tea, and so shall have it and be sane.
you must know, always always, that were i more eloquent or at least more given to communication, every single comment from me to you would be of praise and wholehearted assent.
i think perhaps she will be a great driving-force behind your writing (and most probably already is), like with woolf. it is so curiously difficult to escape someone one loves, but we will eat them off the trees, and no mistake!
derya has had too much tea today, and thinks sanity is quite frivolous for thee.
re: a physical refuge - perhaps a different sort but still applicable: (very) often when i was younger (& now, still) i sought a physical refuge. i thought of what i would want my home to be like - i went through phases of wanting tunnels, secret rooms that open from the bathroom avec a secret code via seemingly innocent tiles, & secret hiding places that would be invincible against the world's natural, human & emotional disasters.
thankyou, always. i wanted to say - i STILL want secret tunnels and labyrinthian curvaceous & clandestine mazes under a white&blue tile decor. but my passages are membraneous, tenuous.
but if we ever met, i know we would furnish our asylum gloriously.
You are, as your writing, so special and deep. This reminds me you are exactly at the opposite side of my world. I always wanted to visit Australia with all my heart, since i was a baby, but i'm afraid of the plane, and i don't think i could stand so much hours in the sky. But this are just sad thoughts, while reading Whutering Heights.
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you are writing lovely things, i just don't know how to reply.
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i love tulle! i want to make some palest-pale aquamarine and pink tulle skirts.
(i am piecing together that package of which we emailed a while ago - in exchange for le zine - do not think i've forgotten!)
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i loved your lines about crimson and red. made me think of d.h. lawrence essays and his poppies. you say things that are so very right, and eloquent.
blown away.
x
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but thank you. i had that line in my head all day & just didnt know what to do with it! i still wish i could figure out something more substantial for it. for now i'll just hold onto it until something else comes.
take care, xo
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also, how is ta maman, darling? i know it is daunting, the thought of becoming like our parents however much we love them...
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[she is oscillating betwixt a mild guise and the grotesque. but she is driving me to rent powdered wigs tomorrow, so i am grateful to her for that privilege]
we shall not be them, or be bound to their dispositions! we shall sever all nerves of nervous similarity and run [as fast as we can!], escape and eat pistachios (for that seems to be an appropriate thing when one is trying not to be one's mother!)
sorry. natalia needs tea, and so shall have it and be sane.
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i think perhaps she will be a great driving-force behind your writing (and most probably already is), like with woolf. it is so curiously difficult to escape someone one loves, but we will eat them off the trees, and no mistake!
derya has had too much tea today, and thinks sanity is quite frivolous for thee.
also, i will email you! xxx.
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"we will eat them off the trees". yes.
x
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re: a physical refuge - perhaps a different sort but still applicable: (very) often when i was younger (& now, still) i sought a physical refuge. i thought of what i would want my home to be like - i went through phases of wanting tunnels, secret rooms that open from the bathroom avec a secret code via seemingly innocent tiles, & secret hiding places that would be invincible against the world's natural, human & emotional disasters.
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i wanted to say - i STILL want secret tunnels and labyrinthian curvaceous & clandestine mazes under a white&blue tile decor. but my passages are membraneous, tenuous.
but if we ever met, i know we would furnish our asylum gloriously.
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This reminds me you are exactly at the opposite side of my world.
I always wanted to visit Australia with all my heart, since i was a baby, but i'm afraid of the plane, and i don't think i could stand so much hours in the sky.
But this are just sad thoughts, while reading Whutering Heights.
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perhaps one day you will be in Australia. where, i wonder.
thankyou.
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