“When she came to this country her body had stopped growing, her bones had accepted enough Antipodean deposit to last until her death, her hair that once had flamed ginger in the southern sun was fading and dust-coloured in the new hemisphere, and she was thirty, unmarried except for a few adulterous month with an American writer (self-styled) who woke in the morning, said –
I write best on an empty stomach, –
pulled a small piece of paper from his tweed coat hanging on the end of the double bed, and wrote one line.”

toward another summer, Counterpoint LLC, 2010

(Zugetragen von Melusine B.)