These Nymphs

I could write about Stéphane Mallarmé whom I am both reading and reading about. Last week I read the whole of L’Après-Midi D’Un Faune to Andrew (in English) in the car on the way to the grocery.

I could write about oft quoted and seasonally appropriate The Song of Solomon, which I was reading today. When I asked Andrew for back story on it, he knows all this stuff, he wanted to know why I was asking, what got me going on that…

This is the same Andrew who a few years back when I was researching the culture that sacrificed a young woman to the gods that was found frozen by mountaineers hundreds of years later and came upon the history of the “red carpet” (prized red shells broken to create a path for the king to walk upon), he scooped up handfuls of white rose petals, (we were in a rose garden at the time) and flung them on the ground before me as I walked.

I could write about the warm fragrant air and the fat bees and a spring the likes of which I have never seen, but what I really want to write about is my Aunt Alice.

She is my mother’s baby sister and we just found out about her existence two weeks ago. Our mother was adopted under mysterious circumstances and died now almost 30 years ago. This is our mother’s blood sister and she remembers our mother as a girl! This is an amazing development and ripe with material for much art.

I could write about all that and more but now I have to go take a shower and read my murder mystery about Hiroshima survivors and get to sleep!