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Show Autobiography I was afraid my life would be like visiting my grandparents when I was little: green carpet, big ugly sofas, and no one having anything to say; my grandfather seeming not to be thinking; no one wanting to talk to anyone, just no one having anything to say. Sitting there like mummies, out of duty, no other reason. I sit and look straight at the hollowness: a bullseye. I want to say my life has been a pipecleaner, beautifully twisted, in tandem with others like it. Or, not beautiful, a known-by-name shape; nothing to do but let the form of things take over. /£~ |
