I play out the cards. They say: This is Heaven, this is Hell. It is one.
Sandra GullandA feeling of disquiet continues to haunt me. As a youth one dreams of love; by the time one wakes, it is too late.
Sandra GullandHe calls me Josephine. He says I'm an angel, a saint, his good lucky star. I know I'm no angel, but in truth I have begun to like this Josephine he sees. She is intelligent; she amuses; she is pleasing. She is grace and charm and heart. Unlike Rose; scared, haunted and needy. Unlike Rose with her sad life.
Sandra GullandWe are born, we live and we die - in the midst of the marvelous.
Sandra GullandFor the king, love like an alter fire, eternal
Sandra GullandI kissed his cheek. "My King." I swooped into the courtly curtsy he'd taught me as a girl, regally kicking an imaginary train aside as I turned to go. He was laughing silently as I left. For a moment I saw that spark again. I did not say goodbye.
Sandra GullandDaggers ever at the ready, I went about the day: children fed, linens mended, bedclothes aired. In little ways one conquers fear.
Sandra GullandNow I have discovered where it is that she goes. It's the guillotine that draws her, across the river in the Place Louis Quinze- Place de la Revolution now-where daily crowds gather, the vendors selling lemonade, the children playing prisoner's base, the old ladies gossiping as the heads fall.
Sandra GullandI lowered myself into an armchair. I was enveloped in a cloud of dust. All that remained of my life was in my lap. I sat for a time thus, as still as the mute objects that surrounded me. How little it all meant, in the end.
Sandra GullandThe Queen has been guillotined, accused of crimes beyond imagining. Last night she appeared to me in a dream, handing me her head.
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