6 Comments
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Rebecca Loudon's avatar

HD’s colors were crazy bright, and it was dazzling to see them all in one room. I guess people just don’t see what they don’t want to see? Or people don’t really look at art I mean they look at it, but they don’t look into it. I was stunned by them I couldn’t breathe and yes, look how they’ve lodged into my brain. Xor

Mary Moon's avatar

It has been a very long time since you mentioned Henry here or on your blog and I don't know how you have ever had the courage to face him and what he did, much less the courage to face your mother and what she did. I guarantee you that if I'd been one of the people in the museum, I would not have been oohing and ahhhing, I would have run like crazy unless I had rolled up right there like a pill bug, vomiting.

I hate your mother. I hate her so much.

Elizabeth Aquino's avatar

You're like the opposite of the second coming -- this beautiful spiral, circling back, your falcon. Does that make sense?

Rebecca Loudon's avatar

Absolutely thank you Elizabeth. Your comment harkens back to Robert Duncan’s amazing poem My Mother Would Be A Falconress, one of my favorite poems of all time. Thank you my friend.

Rebecca Cook's avatar

Wow. It's like being a tiny snake, weaving in and out of your mind and his. Terrifying. Beautiful. I have so missed your writing. And your courage. I am glad you mother is still dead. And that she will keep on being dead. I wish she could be erased. xxxxxxxxxxx

Barbara S's avatar

No words, just great admiration for your telling.

Xoxo

Barbara