photo Gunnar Lindgren 

The Day when History was made... Now almost a year since The Picture was taken - Yours Truly mingling under the cut glass chandeliers... an unholy innocent at the most prestigious address in Sweden - Grand Hôtel Stockholm -exchanging some civilities with the Conférencière'... Oh how little did I know beforehand... of coming months and a turmoil of happenings in with numerous adventures sandwiched in...

Days of mixed feelings... After being cleared in the Case my wellwishers are thinking that I could carry on as before... Forget it..! I´m not the same woman as before... My Heart Interests are Dead... for the time being. In fact... I recently discovered that I even lost my language... don´t know if I create a new one... My world is inside of me. At times...  Yours Truly, quite happily and contented, can sit back counting her Blessings... While the next day I don´t think anybody in the world can be as unhappy as me.! If I did not have my poetry I would be a raving loonie by now. My entire world has moved into my head.. I don´t mind too much... but expecting to see some Developments.. Sometimes I feel like one of those American dogs in sickly Appalachian Mountain songs who sit on their dead masters graves.. listening and waiting. And all of that only because that I  - by chance or by instinct - discovered a new world of gentleness, manners and grace...

Once again I have to turn to Great Literature for solace. Must see to keep active.. I have neglected my brain of lately..   

Joyce´s Ulysses..!    

The book opens with stately plump Buck Mulligan looking out across the sea at the beginning:

"God", he said quietly, "isn't the sea what Algy calls it: a great, sweet mother? The snot-green sea. The scrotum-tightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton. Ah Daedalus, the Greek. I must teach you. You should read them in the original. Thalatta! thalatta! She is our great, sweet mother. Come and look."

Och allt finns i verkligheten... Ett helt kapitel utspelar sig i baren på Ormond hotell precis vid norra kajen av floden Liffey i Dublins sköna stad.    Jag tog genast in på hotellet, som visade sig vara otroligt påvert; en ensam glödlampa dinglade från taket, ledsamma grågröna väggar utan en enda tavla eller försök till dekoration, en ranglig säng och garderoben med en enda ståltrådsgalje och ett snöre att hänga sig i för den livströtte... (Lär dock ha blivit uppiffat på sistone..) Detta förtog ingalunda upplevelsen!    Här kunde jag ligga i sängen, bakom fördragna gardiner, och läsa precis hur Molly Bloom funderar över sitt kärleksliv i romanens berömda kaptitel som börja och slutat med "Yes!" Och samtidigt lyssna till S:t George´s klockor som ringer så betydelsefullt i romanen, höra måsarnas skrin och Liffey´s vågor klucka. Oöverträffat! 

 "...Yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will yes." 

— Famous monologue Penelope (Molly Bloom),  James Joyce (Ulysses)

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