Here is a pretty picture of a door knocker, taken in the hot August streets of Pamplona. I am sick in bed, sliding gently into 2013. Tucked under my duvet, surrounded by my manuscript, Battleborn and a scary French book about linguistics - that I have promised myself I'll read - I alternately groan, rewrite paragraphs and window shop food blogs. I am nursing a bad head and wearing thick socks. Still, it's cosy in here. Bonne année.
2 comments:
Oh dear, sorry to hear you were sick in bed. Glad to know you were surrounded by words.
Speaking of words, it's amazing to me how those of Claire Vaye Watkins, so absent of emotion, conjure so much of it in me.
Hope you are feeling better.
Hello Cynthia. Thanks for your good wishes. I really fell in love with Battleborn, it touched my heart. I am going to start re-reading the stories soon. I finished it last week and I am now plunged in Amos Oz's autobiography, which feels swimming in a Marquez style Polish banquet with Israeli sun, gefilte fish, intellectual chatter and Yiddish folk tales served with tragedy.
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