A fallen blossom
returning to the bough, I thought—
But no, a butterfly.
Untitled - Arakida Moritake (1472-1549)
“They were all in their early thirties. An age at which it is sometimes hard to admit that what you are living is your life.”
― Alice Munro, The Moons of Jupiter
‘And are you?’
‘No. That’s where it all falls down, of course.’
‘Pity,’ said Arthur with sympathy. ‘It sounded like quite a good lifestyle otherwise.’
The Scientific Power of Thought (AsapSCIENCE)
Hyalophora Cecropia Moth
Ballpoint, Conte Crayon, Ink, Graphite
8.5” x 11”
If I could only bring myself to disapprove of these essential products my self-respect would be saved. But, on the
contrary, I look with envy at self-possessed women flipping cigarette ash here, there and everywhere and I creep miserably round the room at cocktail parties, finding a place to hide my untasted glass.
Perseverance has not availed. For six months I religiously smoked a cigarette after lunch and after dinner, choking a little, biting fragments of tobacco, and blinking as the ascending smoke pricked my eyelids. Soon, I told myself, I should learn to like smoking. I did not learn to like it, and my performance was criticized severely as being inartistic and painful to watch. I accepted defeat.
When I married Max we enjoyed the pleasures of the table in perfect harmony, eating wisely but much too well.
He was distressed to find that my appreciation of good drink - or indeed of any drink - was nil. He set to work to educate me, trying me perseveringly with clarets, burgundies, sauternes, graves and, more desperately, with tokay, vodka and absinthe! In the end he acknowledged defeat. My only reaction was that some tasted worse than others! With a weary sigh, Max contemplated a life in which he should be forever condemned to the battle of obtaining water for me in a restaurant! It has added, he says, years to his age.