February 15th 2019
What would it be if this could be written in the midst of the day: on a train, in a queue, in the loo, whilst uninterested at the back of a hall, as opposed to in soft darkness and silence?
I shall have to try it and find out.
But what comes now is an image of her legs, her naked legs, in a hotel bathroom with a view to a deerpark, and how much I thought of birds and the 'bird-girl' passage from A Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man. It opens like this:
"A girl stood before him in midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane’s and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh."
What would it be if this could be written in the midst of the day: on a train, in a queue, in the loo, whilst uninterested at the back of a hall, as opposed to in soft darkness and silence?
I shall have to try it and find out.
But what comes now is an image of her legs, her naked legs, in a hotel bathroom with a view to a deerpark, and how much I thought of birds and the 'bird-girl' passage from A Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man. It opens like this:
"A girl stood before him in midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane’s and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh."
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