"i doubt it i will open it. mother slid it to me, but i think it was the cruellest thing. its presence sets my mind off. i prefer the late afternoon haze to anything else that would lessen my soothing wódka state.
of course now, i think of angela, how could i not, she chose the wallpaper. not consciously. she just hollered at all the other patterns. when they took angela away, i turned my back to the walls forever, prefered the ceiling. mother persisted, put the flowered paper up. i have hated it since.
and now the notebook. notes on angela.
of course now, i think of angela, how could i not, she chose the wallpaper. not consciously. she just hollered at all the other patterns. when they took angela away, i turned my back to the walls forever, prefered the ceiling. mother persisted, put the flowered paper up. i have hated it since.
and now the notebook. notes on angela.
on the night stand my half empty glass wavers."
woolf, 19/01/11