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She called the lump in Her breast "a black pearl", She called Her Mother to nurse Her in the darkest hours, She called memories of the three men She loved at different times of Her life to draw the parallels between seemingly similar situations of betrayal. Who i going to betray Her, who is going to stay...?
She struggles with the meaning of life trying to find it through themes of motherhood, friendship, betrayal, displacement, illness, pain, grief and loss.
She travelled to Andalucia, London, The Isle of Man, where She met colorful characters believing that the unknown can reverse the fragmentation and change reality, believing that all the little broken selves can once again bring the broken pieces into a cohesive mosaic.
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London, Cadiz, Barcelona, Belfast, Isle of ManShowing 5 featured editions. View all 5 editions?
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Excerpts
The wind blew off my scarf and I did not even bother to stand up and get involved with the levante’s cheeky dance and chase my scarf around the beach. But I sat minding my numerous sheets of paper which would turn into letters as the day approached towards more tiresome hours for me.
He approached from behind, I never heard his footsteps, for the sand was a silent road, nor had I caught his very distinguished odour of strong spirits, for the wind was blowing it away from us. He said:
“Your scarf.”
I grabbed my sheets of paper as if I was guarding them with my life and did not know whether he came as a rescuer of my scarf or whether he was an intruder keen to interfere with my tidied-up sentences. I had had enough of the levante’s interference, for with it my sentences were somehow less obedient to my mind; but I did not need any interference, either from any other natural source or from a man who came as a rescuer, who caught a freed bird I tied below my suspicious chin. Honestly, I did not know what to say, or to take the scarf he was holding, for I was holding my letters tightly to my chest and both hands were full of my conversations with my men and I was very hesitant, for if I wanted my scarf I needed to let go of my letters and it would be more of a disaster to lose my pages than the silken scarf I had bought in the bazaar down in Cadiz town. He read my dilemma in my trembling hands and as he came closer he simply asked if he might tie it around my head.
I did not say “yes,” I did not say “no,” but he came closer and tied it around my head and tied a little bow on the back of my neck
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- Created March 23, 2011
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March 23, 2011 | Edited by 124.169.135.243 | Edited without comment. |
March 23, 2011 | Edited by 124.169.135.243 | Added new cover |
March 23, 2011 | Created by 124.169.135.243 | Added new book. |