Sunday, January 28, 2007

LRT along Queen's Quay

Hispanic woman, late 20s, wearing a long wool coat and black scarf. Her lush brown hair is pushed up under a tweed cap, loose strands dangling around large silver hoops. The tattoo on the base of her neck appears to be a 45 rpm record spindle.

The Writing Life, Annie Dillard (Harper Perennial)

Page 17-18:

The written word is weak. Many people prefer life to it. Life gets your blood going, and it smells good. Writing is mere writing, literature is mere. It appeals only to the subtlest senses--the imagination's vision, and the imagination's vision, and the imagination's hearing--and the moral sense, and the intellect. This writing that you do, as if you were dancing next to the band, is barely audible to anyone else. The reader's ear must adjust down from loud life to the subtle, imaginary sounds of the written word. An ordinary reader picking up a book can't yet hear a thing; it will take half an hour to pick up the writing's modulations, its ups and downs and louds and softs.

She draws her fingers across the page; the topography of each word builds toward a vision. She leans forward, closer, fingers moving swiftly from margin to margin. Her head tilts now, her brow restly gently on her knuckles. Her commitment to the page is almost unbearable; the pads of her fingers are seared with silent counsel. She gasps and lifts from the page, falling back into her chair, giggling.

She draws her fingers across her lips; a coquettish grin rolls across her face.

3 comments:

August said...

I'm down in that neighbourhood all the time (all my friends have nicer apartments than me), but I don't have a clue what LTR means. After seven months I can barely figure out what things in my own neighbourhood mean. ;)

Julie Wilson said...

I don't think I know either and I lived there for four years. Local Rail Tranist? Lo! Rail Tranist?

August said...

It just occurred to me: Light Rail Transit.