Jazzy Lemon

“We're free agents. We can do what we want." Free agents. When my mother used those words she'd wave her keys. "We're like two bachelorettes," she'd say as we backed out of the drive. The road she took was always by the sea. Floods never put her off. "It'll pass" she'd say when I braced myself in the seat. If a wave hit the car, she'd drive on, floating sometimes for seconds. The wipers could clear off the sand and small stones. Seaweed was the problem. Not the one with poppers. That landed with a thud and rolled like a body off the windscreens. No, the problem was the smaller stuff, bright green and fine that wrapped itself like a feather boa around the side mirror. Usually, with one hand, she could throw it off. But sometimes, it took both her hands as if it were a scarf around Isadora Duncan's neck.”
― Georgia Scott, American Girl: Memories That Made Me

“The hermit crab doesn't look too closely,
he just crawls into a shell that isn't his.
But remains a hermit. That's my hang-up:
if I leave my shell, I can't crawl into yours.”
― Eugenio Montale

“A lot of good arguments are spoiled by some fool who knows what he is talking about.”
― Miguel de Unamuno

“Gentleman wanted:
must have clown-suit, powder and paint, scarlet quiff, scarlet heart.
Green eyebrows essential.
Should be able to dance,
laugh,
sing;
be a masked god on a high wire stretched from alpha to omega
over this fleapit, waiting for encores”.”
― Ardengo Soffici