|From January 2014|
What a marvellous, marvellous book… and wonderful, wise and witty prose. Drink it in. Some of my favourites!
(And, let it be know that this damn computer is an Aussie and corrects all my spelling. That last word up there, the one before the exclamation point, it didn't have a "u" when it came off my fingertips.)
The persistence of material objects is becoming an amazement to me. It's the same door. The one I used to go in through, out through, year after year in my daily clothing or in various outfits and disguises not thinking at all that I would one day be standing in front of this very same door with my grey-haired little sister... but all doors used regularly are doors to the afterlife.
As any bank robber can tell you, Nell would say, the best thing to do when running away is not to run. Just walk. Just stroll. A combination of ease and purposefulness is desirable then no one will notice you're running. In addition to which, don't carry heavy suitcases or canvas bags full of money or pack sacks with body parts in them. Leave everything behind you except what's in your pockets. Lightest is best.
"I am a cannibal", she thought with odd detachment.
Maybe she would grow cunning up here on the farm. Maybe she would absorb some of the darkness, which might not be darkness at all but only knowledge. She would turn into a woman others came to for advice. She would be called in emergencies. She would roll up her sleeves and dispense with sentimentality and do whatever blood soaked, bad smelling thing had to be done.
She would become adept with axes.
In the end we'll all become stories or else we'll become entities. Maybe, it's the same.