"Bridget would reappear. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she couldn’t stay. In this camp that made warriors of them, Bridget would be safe. She’d find her again." Wonderful lines that seem to suggest that Annabel Jenkins is beginning to teeter on the edge of something like panic. Beautifully done.
Love that 'identi-kit Diana's'. I sense that Miss Jenkins has mostly found herself, but I'm hoping she eventually finds another like her to share life with. She seems to be largely going through the motions now.
Came back to say this. I was thinking of this chapter on my walk. You paint with words so well. They evoke in me memories: The feeling of kinship you’re not sure you are entitled to feel. Here is another soul like me. Here is another who knows what it is to be outside. Here is a possibility to see be seen. But who am I? I felt all of this in the moment Annabel met the black woman with the green stripe in her hair. Or maybe I’m projecting. ;)
My favorite bit was about the teachers' trying to be "identikit" Diana's, and how that made non-Diana, Annabel Jenkins feel a kinship of otherness with the only black woman she saw. A really effective way of describing Annabel, both physically and how she sees herself. (I'm studying you, Eleanor!).
"Bridget would reappear. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she couldn’t stay. In this camp that made warriors of them, Bridget would be safe. She’d find her again." Wonderful lines that seem to suggest that Annabel Jenkins is beginning to teeter on the edge of something like panic. Beautifully done.
Thanks, Jeff.
Love that 'identi-kit Diana's'. I sense that Miss Jenkins has mostly found herself, but I'm hoping she eventually finds another like her to share life with. She seems to be largely going through the motions now.
Came back to say this. I was thinking of this chapter on my walk. You paint with words so well. They evoke in me memories: The feeling of kinship you’re not sure you are entitled to feel. Here is another soul like me. Here is another who knows what it is to be outside. Here is a possibility to see be seen. But who am I? I felt all of this in the moment Annabel met the black woman with the green stripe in her hair. Or maybe I’m projecting. ;)
Grateful for your work.
I think you're relating, and that means a lot to me.
So many dimensions, so many diverse stories, all bringing their own dreams, both shattered or out of reach, to the gathering. Loved Annabelle’s POV!
I really love Annabelle. She made me laugh.
Love this shift in POV. I marvel at how economically you sketch in a whole character, context and all.
Another fantastic installation! Oh, Bridget, where are you?
My favorite bit was about the teachers' trying to be "identikit" Diana's, and how that made non-Diana, Annabel Jenkins feel a kinship of otherness with the only black woman she saw. A really effective way of describing Annabel, both physically and how she sees herself. (I'm studying you, Eleanor!).
So well-written. And the story has been so hidden; I find that alarming, as if it didn't matter?
I was thinking this too, Mary!!