“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.” — Virginia Woolf
Two things are happening simultaneously. A propellor whirls. My being is moving in two directions. My body is twinned in two places at once. The present tense and my long ago past collide every morning. I am in 2020 Oaxaca City, Mexico City. And in my great grandmother’s nineteenth-century English home.
Love means to learn to look at yourself The way one looks at distant things. For you are only one thing among many. (A poem by Czeslaw Milosz)
A nine-course vegetarian feast. A birthday party for the wonderful Jillian Elizabeth. Chef Doreen Prei went above and beyond for this multi-faceted extravaganza for a dozen or so. Splendid dinner at Zinc Restaurant. Plus a brief winter of our discontent political detour to Alberta, Canada, the U.S. and the U.K.
Wherein a woman walks and muses. The shape of the woods sounds like birds. Writers abound. The stories cross oceans and wave. All this to try to stem the tide in her head of climate catastrophe and the rise of authoritarian regimes here there & everywhere. Keeping a world on self-destruct at bay.
No Gate No Lock 