June 24, 2012
The Diaries of Anaïs Nin: Vol. II (Dear Anaïs)
it is quite vexing to realize that this is the only book I’ve finished reading since March. The voracious reader in me has been compulsorily subdued by life’s unexpected blows. But who am I to speak of life’s blows when you have experienced worse plights which you never allowed to cripple your zest for learning, life, and creativity? Nevertheless, the slow reading of this volume has allowed me to savor its pages more carefully, sip by sip… and if not for certain cracks in the mirror that distorts an otherwise shocking likeness, I would have been reading about me. Libertinian tendencies aside, I constantly find myself identifying with you – not you as a writer, for who can dare? But you as a woman, Anaïs; You as she who waits with a book; You as she who is touched by everything in life; You as she who is unanswerable; You as she who perceives that depth is more important than height; You as she who does not understand ennui because life is too full; You as she who is fully aware of man’s role in a woman’s life; You as she who needs God; You as she who sees loved-ones more than they see themselves; You as she who awakens with brutal honesty and love; You as she who loves too much; And even you as she who seldom purchases clothes and accessories but has an eccentric habit of getting two of each item that you like – and I understand because even in those things we feel the danger of loss… and by the time I’m done with the three remaining volumes of your diary, I hope I can claim that I identify with you as she who is courageous.
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