Description

Immediate dispatch from Somerset. Nice book in great condition. Pages in excellent condition. No notes or highlighting. See images. Fantastic book.

About the book >.>.> Colette sits at the window of her upstairs apartment overlooking the gardens of the Palais Royal. She taps her teeth absently with one forefinger eyes narrowed and concentrating. She looks at children playing two women walking immersed in conversation one of them weeping gently; she looks at them but what she sees ah what she sees. Colette is a younger woman that cat on her lap both listening to a tale told by a stranger in a hotel; she is a child and Sido is relating what the spider in her bedroom has said; she is some age no age suffused with the smell and taste of a woodland spring and its icy touch the sound of Paris the smooth glistening of a lover’s skin and its sexual smell the beauty of hills and crisp dawn flowers. Which will it be then while she can still hold the pen to craft those delicious words: an essay about food and cats and lovers pleasures lightly called physical? a sketch of a moment from the golden seam of childhood? a story of the demi-monde? But yes all of them she would of course have all of them. She begins to write: ‘I did not acquire my habitual mistrust of nonentities over a period of years. (SP)