the title being the closest I can think of to the French word basculements which came to me yesterday as I was sorting through books I don’t care all that much about (bought at sales for reasons I can’t always fathom).
One such by a now-deceased French humorist begins with a declaration of love for France. A declaration that might have enchanted me a few years ago. Except the political climate has veered so far right in the past few years that the words of this sympathique left-wing anarchist would fit just fine in any of the recent ultra-right screeds about the sacred bonds uniting – nay, rooting – humans to their native soil.
Sad to say, in landslides, even the finest trees find themselves up-ended.
Back to story: I still don’t know why I decided the next scene I’m about to revise belongs to the Third Part of whatever the finished story will be. Live and learn. Go forth and discover, etc.
Silly, to be so upset over the death by hanging in Istanbul of an activist I had never heard of before? A strong woman, from all accounts. Made to appear weak and suicidal over a missed plane connection. The thought of her, most present this morning. You don’t choose early morning thoughts; they choose you.
Allez. The day.