Again, the beautiful imagery around the pieces of delicate scrolls that workers try to fit into meaning, paralleling the characters trying to find something in all the pieces of their relationships. Love it.
"Lena saw a field of flowers and colors, greens and browns and reds and yellows, fallen petals, leaves. Lost in colors and wordplay: ripening grapes, fallen. Dreamed and forgotten. Chicanery and shame." Lovely, lovely writing, Mary!
I wasn’t sure if my interpretation was in line with yours, I love the process of deciphering though. You always leave so many delectable crumbs to follow!
🙏And also the gift of your mysterious unconscious self who speaks so eloquently when you are writing. I think that’s why I like to pause on your words, like I’m hearing another part of you whispering with great meaning, if only we tune in to listen.
That is exactly what the writer secretly hopes, I suppose, but it so rarely happens that I try never to think about that because what compels me to write comes in ways unknown--except when I examine the craft of it in the editing process.
Actually, Kimberly, I hadn't thought of that way of reading the dream until you stated it. The imagery simply (the mysterious aspect of creating) appeared for me. On reading what you wrote, I now see that you are spot on. That is the gift of the exchange in writing with readers who take the time to comment.
Again, the beautiful imagery around the pieces of delicate scrolls that workers try to fit into meaning, paralleling the characters trying to find something in all the pieces of their relationships. Love it.
Beautifully state. My thanks, big time.
So much simultaneous kinship and subterranean tension between these women!
Strikingly on point, Alisa. 💕
"Lena saw a field of flowers and colors, greens and browns and reds and yellows, fallen petals, leaves. Lost in colors and wordplay: ripening grapes, fallen. Dreamed and forgotten. Chicanery and shame." Lovely, lovely writing, Mary!
Oh, what a boost your words give me. Thank you, Jeffrey.
Lena’s dream is fascinating. Leaves me with a sense of pristine, carefree days long gone, now creased, too wrinkled to press back into innocence.
Eloquently said: that sleeveboard resonates in your reading. I thank you, dear Kimberly!
I wasn’t sure if my interpretation was in line with yours, I love the process of deciphering though. You always leave so many delectable crumbs to follow!
🙏And also the gift of your mysterious unconscious self who speaks so eloquently when you are writing. I think that’s why I like to pause on your words, like I’m hearing another part of you whispering with great meaning, if only we tune in to listen.
That is exactly what the writer secretly hopes, I suppose, but it so rarely happens that I try never to think about that because what compels me to write comes in ways unknown--except when I examine the craft of it in the editing process.
Actually, Kimberly, I hadn't thought of that way of reading the dream until you stated it. The imagery simply (the mysterious aspect of creating) appeared for me. On reading what you wrote, I now see that you are spot on. That is the gift of the exchange in writing with readers who take the time to comment.