Over the next few weeks we wooed each other in fonts and pixels - an email courtship that couldn’t be happening, I thought, because Susie was heterosexual and I have given up missionary work with heterosexual women. But something was going on and I had no idea what to do about it. I had lunch with my friend, the writer Ali Smith. She said, ‘Just kiss her.’
Susie went to talk to her daughter in New York. Lianna said, ‘Just kiss her, Mummy.’
So we did.
People were the problem. How do you love another person? How do you trust another person to love you? I had no idea. I thought that love was loss.
Why is the measure of love loss?
That was the opening line of a novel of mine - Written on the Body (1992). I was stalking love, trapping love, losing love, longing for love.
This is random: Painting book covers
This book cover fascinates me because I feel the people staring at me (probably thinking I’m a bit of a perv) when I read it in public places. It’s mysterious and sexy and intriguing, and the book is by Winterson, so it’s quite perfect. Spent this rainy day trying to paint it.
Posted by rainbowramareads
P.S. This is a new section, if you want to share something book/reading related, or if you’re feeling rebellious and just really, really want to make a post but it’s not that “day” yet. Hello to all the new members/followers! :)
“Love without thought. Love without conditions. Love without promises. Love without threats. Love without fear. Love without limits. Love without end.
I think she did love me, for a minute, for a second, for the time it takes to remember, for the time it takes to forget. We had twenty-eight days together and then I was gone.”
“We made love by our fire, watching the snow shape the entrance to the cave.
When I touch her, my fingers don’t question what she is. My body knows who she is. The strange thing about strangers is that they are unknown and known. There is a pattern to her, a shape I understand, a private geometry that numbers mine. She is a maze where I got lost years ago, and now find the way out. She is the missing map. She is the place that I am.”