Quote of Inspiration

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Atilla and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Monday, August 2, 2010

My fig for this week is obviously related to my current position: Paris, France. Two of my figs are actually sort of Paris-dependent. One is to watch the sun rise in Paris:

*Photo taken from ParisDailyPhoto.com, Eric Tenin

The second fig/experience is to drink absinthe:

I plan to do them both while I'm here, and I'll blog about them separately over the next two weeks.


1 comment:

  1. And just how is Paris? We are all dying to hear. Please post soon!


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