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A Love Letter from a Stray Moon

written by Jay Griffiths

Penguin Books Ltd | ISBN 9781921758027

Paperback – 128 pages

$19.95

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When I was a small girl, I rehearsed my flight. I dreamt of flying. I jumped off walls and flew, but only down. I wanted to fly up; I needed wings. My hope was winged but it wasn't enough. I jumped when I walked and I photographed myself just by blinking, catching the bright flight of the moment, airborne, between each blink. My friends said that I was graceful, that I made little leaps as I walked, so I floated like a bird, but they also teased me terribly, my friends, and cut me out of their games because polio had damaged my leg, and they called me peg-leg. I learned to swear and practised on them as much as I could, telling them they were hijos de puta and I was going to the fucking moon...
I glimpsed Diego first when I was just a kid, long before the accident. He was painting The Creation, and I saw him as a man unbowed by any god for he knew he was man the creator. I saw coasts in him, volcanoes and forests, a geography of mind painted in all time, from the long pre-Columbian verde of forest-mind in its thousands of generations before the peculiar regency of history. And that is the time in which I write now, to plead in those longest cycles of time, for now as I write this, my love letter from the moon to man, I am using my heart as a palette and painting in my own blood.

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