Sunday nice

Internet was again lousy at home last night (well, was off, really). This I wrote last night though. Now, get to work _Got a few things to do this morning.

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On Saturday, I paid a short visit to the British Tate with T. We were just on time for the 3 pm free-guided tour. Among the 5 or 6 pieces of art we saw, I can underline here the three paintings in a triptych, Past and Present by Augustus Leopold (1858). Indeed, the Victorian Era was a terrible Age for women. I mean, prostitution, imposed fates, discrimination, all of which awaited the women who did not behave in accordance to some social standards, to which, of course, men was not bidden by. The symbolism of the paintings is as rich and neat as the brutal reality it pictures. (I came to remember the story of Sarah Woodruff in J. Fowles' The French Lieutenant's Woman. Read it years ago, after suggestion of my friend A. Would be nice to read it again, or perhaps, go for the movie).

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I want and must thank M. for a wonderful time this weekend. I enjoy it a lot, miss her now. It made me feel good: the motion of worlds out there can be complex (particularly one’s individual spheres), but peace and grace can be found by two beings in straightforward company. Against the Heath of Hampstead and the gardens of Kenwood pushing life and growing colors, the undulated meadows stretched out ahead of us, delineated by the stillness of the open road, now jammed, then exclusive and confidential.

The sun and breeze burned slightly my face in an invisible and scented whirlpool of afternoon sunshine; my heart, you had to see it!, spongy, all dressed in the white clothing of a unique Sunday.

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And now, this is for you: what's the difference between a holly-tree bush of red berries and a mistletoe? (Hint: Both of them are evergreen largely displayed in Christmas time).

(PLEASE, LEAVE YOUR COMMENT).