I’m a Magpie
3. The Ladies of Grace Adieu, and other stories, by Suzanna Clarke
Snow fell thick and fast from the sea-green sky.
So I, now, with the vantage of years, am sensible to my foolishness, my blindness, as a child. I cannot think of my blunders without a shriveling of the inward parts — not merely the dessication attendant on shame, but also the aggravation of remorse that I did not demand more explanation, that I did not sooner take my mother by the hand, and – I do not know what I regret. I sit with my pen, and cannot find an end to that sentence. I do not know what we may do, to know another better. |
I'm a library assistant, writer, and perpetual graduate student living in San Francisco. Special skills include dog charming, brochure writing, slapdash cooking and long-winded nattering. I also enjoy watching the sunset's reflection in the tall buildings downtown.
For a while there, I taught classes on Classical literature, philosophy, and the history of religion at New College of California. I have an MA and an MFA in Writing, and started library school in the fall of 2009.
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