Breasts

A sketch I made back in the 70s.

The gesture depicted brings to mind lines from "Journey" by John Williams collected in The Broken Landscape

[...]

           Toward evening when the wine
Ran out we turned as lovers should
To touch as petals on a darkened vine.

The first Philip Roth novel I read was The Breast: a story of transformation, like so many stories.

And so for day 2053
27.107.2012

Nostalgia and the Non-sequitur

I have no idea why these lines remind me of the title of the Truffaut film Le Dernier Métro.

There is nothing so homesick-making
as the ecstasy of a fellow transient.

Perhaps it is a hint of locale - Paris - that makes such scenes possible.

"In the Luxembourg Gardens" by Lachlan MacKinnon collected in Montrerey Cypress.

And so for day 313
23.10.2007