La mie ragazze
I write from my bedroom, this morning. The day has begun with the low white cool of what will be, by the end of the weekend, a blue blaze.
I am sorry that I haven't written to you for a week. But the surprise of the kiss make my fingers shake so I could hardly hit the keys. I do not yet have faith in my own adult femininity to believe in such an event. Rest assured, it has been sinking in. I am quite happy.
I am more sorry, however, to have failed to write about my amies, that is, female friends. This morning, I contenedly feel as if I am the paragon of single girlhood; the only man who means Something to me is in another city. Therefore, we will think about my girls.
Of course there are two sets, for me. I was raised and educated by my parents in Palpohedre. At the ripe age of eighteen, I graduated to the literary institute of Avalon City to make a study of Enlightened Notes Given through Literary Intelligence and Stylistic Heights. (It was there that I met my boys, you see, but let us tuck them away within these parentheses and leave them be). The two sets can be classed by their relative topography to on another. That is to say, I have Palpohedrean friends and Avalonian ones.
You have, of course, made note of Leana. She, too, studies Enlightened Notes. She's a good sight better at it than I am but I am generally rather more glad an jealous for she works like a horse at it. She is tall, fine-boned, pale and stunning. Inside, she is shy and self-willed and over-analytical, and a hoot. Another of our friends, the responsible and ascerbic Lisa, once remarked that she lives inside herself. That remark has stuck with the both of us ever since. Leana is exceptionally intelligent, but it is remarkable what she notices. She'll forget to eat lunch but she can recall the minute when she realised so-and-so about X and Y.
I lodge with two other girls, a vivacious flirt and a little warm girl. Ada and Cait, respectively, are sisters to me in that city. Ada is a whirlwind of wit and intelligence. She has a figure like a pin-up and she is dynamite. Men migrate to her. Cait is five foot nowt and as good-humoured and mellow as a cat. It is easy to love them.
Other girls who study Notes with me are the aforementioned Lisa - who spent a trip-up year in an office, I fear it's cramped her - and Blanche, a mild and thoughtful love, and Organza. Organza is wonderful! Like her name, she's rich and she rustles with promise. She has rich red curls and snowy skin and hot-coal eyes and and soul full of drama and laughter and intense distilled wisdom. When she drinks, she turns into a highly-cultured Hollywood waif from Poland.
What a thing to think of absent friends! Makes one's heart beam, quite.
I ought to go, my tea set has gotten cold from sitting out on the balcony with me. x
I am sorry that I haven't written to you for a week. But the surprise of the kiss make my fingers shake so I could hardly hit the keys. I do not yet have faith in my own adult femininity to believe in such an event. Rest assured, it has been sinking in. I am quite happy.
I am more sorry, however, to have failed to write about my amies, that is, female friends. This morning, I contenedly feel as if I am the paragon of single girlhood; the only man who means Something to me is in another city. Therefore, we will think about my girls.
Of course there are two sets, for me. I was raised and educated by my parents in Palpohedre. At the ripe age of eighteen, I graduated to the literary institute of Avalon City to make a study of Enlightened Notes Given through Literary Intelligence and Stylistic Heights. (It was there that I met my boys, you see, but let us tuck them away within these parentheses and leave them be). The two sets can be classed by their relative topography to on another. That is to say, I have Palpohedrean friends and Avalonian ones.
You have, of course, made note of Leana. She, too, studies Enlightened Notes. She's a good sight better at it than I am but I am generally rather more glad an jealous for she works like a horse at it. She is tall, fine-boned, pale and stunning. Inside, she is shy and self-willed and over-analytical, and a hoot. Another of our friends, the responsible and ascerbic Lisa, once remarked that she lives inside herself. That remark has stuck with the both of us ever since. Leana is exceptionally intelligent, but it is remarkable what she notices. She'll forget to eat lunch but she can recall the minute when she realised so-and-so about X and Y.
I lodge with two other girls, a vivacious flirt and a little warm girl. Ada and Cait, respectively, are sisters to me in that city. Ada is a whirlwind of wit and intelligence. She has a figure like a pin-up and she is dynamite. Men migrate to her. Cait is five foot nowt and as good-humoured and mellow as a cat. It is easy to love them.
Other girls who study Notes with me are the aforementioned Lisa - who spent a trip-up year in an office, I fear it's cramped her - and Blanche, a mild and thoughtful love, and Organza. Organza is wonderful! Like her name, she's rich and she rustles with promise. She has rich red curls and snowy skin and hot-coal eyes and and soul full of drama and laughter and intense distilled wisdom. When she drinks, she turns into a highly-cultured Hollywood waif from Poland.
What a thing to think of absent friends! Makes one's heart beam, quite.
I ought to go, my tea set has gotten cold from sitting out on the balcony with me. x