Monthly Archives: September 2011

love stories

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My gawd, I’m using an advert in the tube to illustrate “love stories.” Is that what it’s come to?

No, not at all. I do like photos in subways and metros, and if I used photos of couples that I visited while in the UK, I’m sure they would not be pleased, as I aim to tell their stories. Lots of good love stories on this trip. And though my city gets a bad rap when it comes to love (“men there treat women as if they’re mobile phones, always looking for the next toy, never appreciating what they have in front of them”), while I was away, one friend eloped and another engaged. Not that matrimony and love are synonymous, but that these women have not been mistaken for androids by the men that love them (New Yorkers all). See? You don’t have to cross the pond. 😉

the anointed line

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“She took the pen carefully and looked at it, twirling it around slowly as she did so. Then she wrote her name in the registrar’s entries of death book on the anointed line. She looked as if she was praying as she wrote. He looked over to see if her writing was as lovely as he was expecting it to be. It was; she had a beautiful hand.
_____The woman smiled at him. The intimacy between them had been like love. Mohammad would miss her. She said, “Thank you,” to him. She put the certificate and official papers in the Please Do Not Bend envelope that she had brought with her. She paid the fee for her own copy of the death certificate which she looked at before putting it away, as if to check if everything was all right.”

— excerpt from Trumpet by Jackie Kay

Photo: Book in the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
Book: Beautiful novel read on trip by Scottish writer Jackie Kay.

je ne sais pas

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Giulia’s translation of the bit written on a planter on a street somewhere between Euston Station (leaving Alys) and Cornhill Street (meeting Tom) in London:

i dont know where i am going
and this i have never really known
but if i will ever know this i think that i would no longer go.

I’m back! What a lovely trip. I’ve never really wandered around London before on my own. Always I’ve been there on my way somewhere else (well, I guess that’s true this time, too), with someone who knows it better than me. I liked it more this time. The juxtaposition of new and old architecture is pleasing.

I stayed with an artist friend whose apartment building is in the Arsenal/Emirates Stadium complex (which is both strange and excellent) and had some time to wander about before and after Scotland, plus a short trip to Brighton/Worthing to see old Lithu friends.

My flight back was easy. Even enjoyable. I read 170 pages of a lovely book, Trumpet, by Jackie Kay. I have not read that much in one sitting in over fifteen years, I bet. Since home, I’ve read only about 30 to and fro on the subway. Snail’s pace.

Stories to write. Love stories. I hope I get to them sooner than usual.