This space hasn't received much in the way of extended attention in the last weeks. Just fun & games. I have a tiny tiny concern that there's no focus, no official purpose for this blog. Instead, it rambles around from activity to absence. No flight path.
I woke this morning, and brought the big Frida book back to bed with coffee & toast. It's such a treacherous book though, filled with pain and bursts of denial, passion and transcendence. Frida brings to mind Anais Nin. There's a slight resemblance and this from their Hispanic-Germanic heritage. More than that, it's the single-minded focus, the beam of I-centered travel and intention. The pursuit of pleasure. I could simplify everything and state that hedonism was their rationale for sufferings. But that belies the complexity of each woman.