For lunch, we drove into the hills and parked in the dappled shade of a big sycamore, its powdery white bark like a woman's body against the uncanny blue sky.
Janet FitchTags: woman sky imagery tree white
I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand.
Janet FitchTags: art love adoration pottery
Whenever she turned her steep focus to me, I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.
Janet FitchI emitted some civetlike female stink, a distinct perfume of sexual wanting, that he had followed to find me here in the dark.
Janet FitchHer fingers moved among barnacles and mussels, blue-black, sharp-edged. Neon red starfish were limp Dalis on the rocks, surrounded by bouquets of stinging anemones and purple bursts of spiny sea urchins.
Janet FitchI took the volume to a table, opened its soft, ivory pages... and fell into it as into a pool during dry season.
Janet Fitch(letters) They were like a kelp forest, they cast a weird green light, you could get lost there, become tangled and drown.
...still eyeing the letters like Portuguese man-of-wars floating on the innocent sea.
No matter where I was, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California.
Janet FitchYou've got to let go of who you were, to become who you will be.
Janet FitchI felt like an undeveloped photograph that he was printing, my image rising to the surface under his gaze.
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