"The presto continues - am writing from Dubai - just one more flight. I rang you from the plane before leaving Heathrow (twice), but you couldn't hear me. I am so sorry if I worried you - but all is fine.
Love love love..."
Now reversing her journey, La Professoressa moves through continents and time zones, leaving before she departs. Cello will wag his tail off, knowing the only reason we are waiting at the gate at 6:30 in the morning is because Di, his running companion and great love, is coming home. A privilege of life this love, this letting go and welcoming home for as long as we have in life.
While my darling was away, I turned 75 and so many of you wrote and wished me well. I am trying to answer all, but what became so clear to me as I read your words, was how much so many of you have given me over all these years, of how we struggled together for more sexual and gender freedoms, for more inclusive histories, for women's full social and economic dignity, for an end to repressive regimes of nationalisms, for borders not of stone but markers of our human care, one for the other, for an end to the rule of racism and the dictatorship of profit no matter the human cost.
Now reversing her journey, La Professoressa moves through continents and time zones, leaving before she departs. Cello will wag his tail off, knowing the only reason we are waiting at the gate at 6:30 in the morning is because Di, his running companion and great love, is coming home. A privilege of life this love, this letting go and welcoming home for as long as we have in life.
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| Di welcoming friends to our home, with an image from Jacob Lawence's Migration Series Behind Her |
While my darling was away, I turned 75 and so many of you wrote and wished me well. I am trying to answer all, but what became so clear to me as I read your words, was how much so many of you have given me over all these years, of how we struggled together for more sexual and gender freedoms, for more inclusive histories, for women's full social and economic dignity, for an end to repressive regimes of nationalisms, for borders not of stone but markers of our human care, one for the other, for an end to the rule of racism and the dictatorship of profit no matter the human cost.
Two offers of the imagination have my complete attention now: Sarah Helm's "Ravensbruck: Life and Death in Hitler's concentration Camp for Women" and since I cannot see the exhibit in New York, the catalogue for Jacob Lawrence's "Great Migration" Exhibit. Both too huge portraits of our failures and our resistance to speak of now, but if these are the last documents of history I read in my life, it will be enough.
My darling, I await you.
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