A few stray thoughts, induced by a January that just won't end, written down as fragments of something that refuses to resemble a complete picture:
1. The strange and strong inhale of violets as I walk across Harrison St
2. A line of cars waiting to turn left, their indicators all with different, ill-timed opinions and I can't take my eyes away from the awful dance of it
3. Circular drain covers painted a horrible bright among the machine-cut, still-earth-smelling bark of trees, the sort with deep orange interiors that they spread out to cover up the mistakes of people
4. I like only four or five exposures from that roll of film, especially the corner of a familiar room all draped in an afternoon sun
5. I could fall asleep in that light
6. Plucked off the smallest feather from the back of your right shoulder, it settled and stuck in a stubborn way to the side of the metal sink; didn't want to leave, stayed there while I washed up breakfast dishes and wondered what the clouds would do with themselves today
WORK-RELATED NEWS:
A few weeks ago (December 7th to be exact), Eating the Sun was included in the Spring Announcements of Publishers Weekly, and this fact remained mostly unmentioned by me due to a lack of newsletter and an excess of travel—while it was a wonderful occurrence, other things quickly took its place in terms of space-in-the-head. Then, yesterday morning, I awoke to an email from the publicist at Penguin (who is lovely, and is called Sara) with news that Eating the Sun was now included in the list below. As you can perhaps imagine, I didn't know what to do with myself for at least half an hour.
(Personally, I can barely wait to read more of the raging astonishment that was Oliver Sacks, and the next to that list position in the only three books science section only served to increase my state of incredulous.)
THIS WEEK I FELL IN LOVE WITH:
Illustrations from a book by David Álvarez, whose work I have fallen in love with before. The book, Noche Antigua, is based on pieces of ancient myths from South American cultures, and is a thing of hushed, glowing beauty.
Images via Colossal.
I have recently decided to undertake some vague, ongoing research into the alternately bearable and unbearable nature of living, and by this I mean that I think I will be repeatedly asking myself (and those unlucky enough to be within reaching distance) frustrating, sleepless questions that try to excavate the topic.
The end.
Copyright © 2019 Ella Frances Sanders, All rights reserved.