Dear Looking for a Good Time,
Oooh, I found another one! A sentence that leaps off the page and smacks you down flat with utter veracity and solid groove resonance. Here it is, from Sido, by Colette.
Her house resembled her in its untidiness and shared with her a grace denied to orderly places and people.
This is a description that I feel I am already partly embodying, and I intend to strive even harder than ever for disorderly grace. Although, something tells me maybe striving isn't the way to arrive at it? Maybe what I mean is I will remove all impediments to slumping ever further towards such a grace. A kind of wilting, maybe?
And you know, if you are going to read Sido, and I hope very much that you will, you might as well also read My Mother's House. In the copy I read, they were very comfortably together. I can't wait til there is a new translation, so I can read them again! Or maybe, I will try to clobber through them in French, with my long ago college language classes and a really big dictionary.
