Thursday, October 11, 2012
Later today I will attempt (and I will fail) to write about the brilliance of The Orchardist, a first novel that has kept me reading through dark hours. It takes time to find the words for books you so profoundly love, for books that matter as much as this one surely does. I need to find that time.
Between now and then, I share this glimpse of two women who moved me in other profound ways. Their shoes matched, too. Their bags. Their ways of looking at the green and gray world around them. They never let each other go. I met them in the Boboli Gardens, but that's a lie. They only had eyes for each other.