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 FitchMots clés woman sky imagery tree white
I thought clay must feel happy in the good potter's hand.
Janet FitchMots clés 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 FitchMots clés love sun snow attention
I emitted some civetlike female stink, a distinct perfume of sexual wanting, that he had followed to find me here in the dark.
Janet FitchMots clés smell wanting sexual
Her 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.
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I felt like an undeveloped photograph that he was printing, my image rising to the surface under his gaze.
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