“I had a brother, once. . .”
GertrudeStein is fond of throwing this non sequitur before the baffled faces of her newly formed acquaintances. . . .
“Actually, she has three and a sister, ” Miss Toklas can often be heard amending from the corner of the studio.
“But, Pussy, for me there was only one,” my Madame would then insist.
How true, I think. We all have only one, no matter the szie of our family. The one for whom we would dive into an algae, pond, drink in its muck, and sink into its silt to save. The one for whom we would claim, “It was all my fault,” no matter the infraction for the crime. The one whom we worship and envy in tandem, until envy grows stronger and takes the lead.
GertrudeStein had a brother, once. She crossed the Atlantic Ocean for him. She had reached the age of twenty-nine in the land of her birth to find there nothing but a sharp, sloping hill. She could take graceful, mincing steps down it, or she could ask, “Can women have wishes?” and run down that same hill flinging her arms in the air in a series of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Paris had two things to recommend it, her brother Leo and the new century.
–m. truong from the book of salt
this is so beautiful! i’m amazoning it now. pronto. and keeping my fingers still crossed for the real junah still out in editor land trying to woo kristina with an “h”.
it’s the companion book, believe, to thirst. you know, when they do the “also recommend” when you put thirst in your cart… or when you have two choices for the qpb club selection of the month.