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Sunday, December 24, 2006

My beating heart














I read this quote and thought it was amazing!

When a writer writes, it's as if she holds the sides
of her chest apart, exposes her beating heart. And
even though everything wants to heal and close over
and protect the heart, the writer must keep it bare,
exposed. And in doing this, all of life is kept back,
all the petty demands of the day-to-day. The heart is
a river. The act of writing is moving water that holds
the banks apart, keeps the muscle of words flexing so
that the reader can be carried along by this movement.
To be given space and the chance to leave one's
earthly world. Is there any greater freedom than this?

I just substitute the word writer with photographer,
but it pertains to anything creative. The book is
about a woman in England during World War II who is
reviving a garden on an abandoned mansion.It is called
The Lost Garden by Helen Humphries. The author is also
a poet and it is just a gorgeous book.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Venice again


I was in Venice again in November and this time the mist was spectacular. Really all consuming, the way I remembered it. And Venice is so quiet and dark at night that it really does add to the mystery of the place.