poesie
Saturday 12 March 2005 | I like a cookie
This one by Fleur Adcock, which made me think about Freya Stark the other night. To be alone and plain and adventurous, seeing amazing things, things utterly foreign to one’s bourgeoise upbringing—being Isak Dinesen on the train to Kenya, or Georgia O’Keeffe on the train to Albuquerque, or MFK Fisher on the train to Lyon—or, even, Lucinda again:
we used to drive to Lafayette and Baton Rouge
in a yellow El Camino listening to Howling Wolf
Relationship serves an entrée into the new, the bohemian, the alien; yet as often or more often, flight from relationship carries a woman there.
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