After a perfect morning with Sebald, I had to put other parts of myself to work: I had to wash my windows …
“She [the perfect wife] was intensely sympathetic. She was immensely charming. She was utterly unselfish. She excelled in the difficult arts of family life. She sacrificed daily. If there was a chicken, she took the leg; if there was a draught she sat in it … Above all, she was pure.” (Woolf, 1966: 2, 285) She added that she “bothered me and wasted my time and so tormented me that at last I killed her” (Woolf, 1966: 2, 285).
And this girl, she obviously thinks there are more than enough light in our rooms
sketcher, reader, writer