As soon as the battery in my cell phone charges I will be heading out for Mama Racha and hoping for a good day there. Only Love surprises me every few pages, so I am curious to see what happens today.
I wish my penmanship was like this. My handwriting is pretty good, I think, although not as neat as that shown here, and a reader has to get used to the way I make the personal pronoun, which looks more like the number 2 than the letter I. Is handwriting by a woman called penwomanship?
If you read Nicole’s writing on her blog (see the link to Nicole in the blog roll), aren’t you fascinated by not only the way she uses the English language (she is Chinese, living in Hong Kong), but even more, her willingness, even urgency, to probe her insides more deeply than most of us are likely to go? Another fascinating thing about Nicole’s writing is how poetic her prose is, as if what she writes is one extended prose poem. I willingly forgive the excesses of her youth; she’ll outgrow that, and carry with her into olden ages an understanding of herself that is frightfully missing in so many people.
Have you noticed that Tracey, our favorite lady in the box office, has finally begun to settle down and work on what she so obviously does best? That is write dialogue, which means she is now writing plays. Her first is being produced by a children’s theatre group in her native England. I am pleased that we her faithful followers have been able to convince her that she is not a novelist, she is a dramatist.
Where is Rose? What are you doing, Rose? You left behind a rather deep and dark empty place when you put aside communicating with your readers via the blog, which has one of the best titles going — you can see what Rose abandoned by clicking on her name over there. I wonder about Rose at some most days. Rose has stories to tell.
Isn’t this an oddity? One of the more strange byproducts of what happens on the Internet. I have never met these three women. There is a photo of Nicole on her web site, and I have seen a photo of Tracey. There is also an iconic photo of Rose on her site. Tracey and I have exchanged a couple of emails about writing that seemed more appropriately discussed that way. Rose and I have also exchanged two or three emails about her work on her memoir, Jack. I heard Rose’s voice once; we had a Skype call a while back.
We are never likely to be in one another’s physical proximity, we each lives thousands of miles from the other, and were we even interested in meeting in the real world, it would take any one of us flying all day to reach another. Yet, here we are. It is this aspect of the modern world that I like and feel at least some appreciation for.
I see that my berry phone battery is ready to venture into the world of my Palermo Soho barrio.