Prolific

Why is it that when you only have time to read very little of what you have written, you cannot find anything but lots of words and long ideas?

I am attending Spoken Word Paris again tomorrow night, and writing poetry or short passages is not always my style!  I envy those that can say in three lines what it takes me five pages to say.

I sat in Shakespeare & Company the other day and picked up a book whose title I thought was interesting: "Thirty Clocks Strike the Hour" and was immediately interested in a passage my eyes glanced upon:

It was then that I used to creep on stockinged feet to the end of the long vista, a scared adventurer in the hushed place of Sleeping Beauty, and it was on such an evening that I saw my great-grandmother, as I most vividly remembered her, coming towards me, from the length of that immeasurable distance, tiny, bent, and alone.


She was a rude, despotic, old materialist, without an ounce of romance or fantasy in her body...

I wish I could write like that.