Summer 2007: Grand Isle

[erlenadlu]

 -  So, this is the place, where she drowned, - said John with his smile, looking at The Awakening I was holding in my hand. I was somewhat in love with his sense of humor. Some people thought he was mean. But he was the only American, whose sense of humor I admired, just as his honesty. He was the only one I knew not ashamed to say that gender studies were meaningless right in the middle of feminist lecture, being the only male being in the room. He also somehow knew I was strong, that my “I am not afraid of death” had nothing to do with “I want to die.”  And so he showed me the place, where she drowned: the artist. The artist should possess a courageous soul.



-You don’t really think this is the place, do you? No one knows, where she really drowned ;)