"I’m a migratory bird. I live in London. The Southern Cross cuts through my heart instead of through the sky, and I can’t see it or walk beneath it, and I don’t care, I don’t care. I no longer milk cows or sit all day watching a flock of sheep, or walk beneath the bark-stripped gum trees by creeks and waterfalls bedded with golden pebbles; what sparkling air; I’ve never seen so many leaves, spring, summer, autumn and winter, I’m buried in leaves, see my hand reaching up from their softness, Help."
--Janet Frame, Towards Another Summer
No comments:
Post a Comment