I set forth to vote in a threadbare old green skirt and purple shirt, rummaged out in honour of the suffragists, singing Ethel Smyth's "The March of the Women"—it's been running through my head for days. Thomas Beecham visited the old warrior in Holloway Prison and reported that he found the activists in the courtyard "...marching round it and singing lustily their war-chant while the composer, beaming approbation from an overlooking upper window, beat time in almost Bacchic frenzy with a toothbrush."
This group is doing it properly!
The white in my tricolor was played by a Wellesley tote bag (from I forget which reunion), and was rapturously hailed by a Class of 2011 going in. She's off to the big vigil at the college tonight.
A classmate reports that "my bees are out and busy. I'm taking that as an omen: GIRL POWER!!"
This is
inexpressibly moving:
a tendril of green springing up beneath the asphyxiating dumpster fire:
Nine
Published on November 08, 2016 14:23