City of women: City of women

Margaret Cordy - to my eyes, my ears, my beloved friend

You will do stupid things, it cannot be avoided. So make it fun at least.

Colette

New York, April 2010

The other day his daughter sent me a letter.

Angela.

Over the years, I thought a lot about her, but personally we spoke only three times.

The first time was in 1971: I sewed her a wedding dress.

The second - in 1977: she announced that her father had died.

Now she wrote that her mother had died. I don't know what reaction she was counting on: perhaps she wanted to embarrass me. But I'm sure she's not spiteful. Angela is not like that. Angela is a kind person. And, more importantly, interesting.

But who knew that her mother would last so long? It seemed to me that she had died a long time ago. As the others. (However, why should I be surprised at someone else's longevity when I myself cling to life like a shell to the bottom of a ship? die and liberate valuable real estate?)

But most of all in Angela's letter I was struck by the last line.