Drabble, drabble....
I am reading Coetzee at the moment, bad idea knowing myself. I was surprised when I saw how many Coetzee books we had in our english literature curriculum, that was blown away by the wind when I met the head of literature.
There is something about that writer and older women, not that I blame then, his writing style leaves nothing to the imagination.
I cannot than be reminded of hot summer days back in Peru when I was a little girl as I read Coetzee. Behind his word there lies a smell of dirt, summer beans warming the pavement, sweatdrops running down warm skin.
I'm in great need of a sordid affair.......
There is something about that writer and older women, not that I blame then, his writing style leaves nothing to the imagination.
I cannot than be reminded of hot summer days back in Peru when I was a little girl as I read Coetzee. Behind his word there lies a smell of dirt, summer beans warming the pavement, sweatdrops running down warm skin.
I'm in great need of a sordid affair.......