There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons– That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes– Emily Dickinson No. 258
Our daughter is named after her. My mother played her onstage when I was about 2 or 4 and they figured out I was smart because I started reciting huge swathes of dialogue after going to rehearsal. Well, smart or able to memorize. It’s winter and I’m… moody. Unsettled, disjointed. …
