Tuesday, November 20, 2012


Last night I was walking the dog in the park and a man recognized her and said she's usually out with your husband, the man with the French accent. I laughed, my husband being Italian.

One of the last times I got together with my father he said my hair gets darker every time he sees me. Was I doing something to it?

We all live under an assumed name. There is no deep stamp on us.

When I called our editing desk in London recently, the person on the other line said, oh it's you, I recognized you because of your German accent.

My husband addresses me by the name nearest at hand. Our daughter's, our dog's, his best friend's wife.

In the morning I take a pair of pants out of the drawer and wonder could these be mine.


ron hardy said...

Identity seems very mysterious, especially where parallel lines cross. I've always liked that word doppelganger.

Michael said...


Jasmine said...

Ditto he looking at clothes and wondering if these are yours

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