“the page swiftly. Sidda did not stop to correct herself, or to analyze why she was doing this. She simply glanced at the creekbank photo, sat at the cabin’s table, and wrote from the heart. Oh, how Mama and the… — Rebecca Wells Copy Share Image
I was Irish; I was a woman. Yet night after night, bent over the table, I wrote in forms explored and sealed by English men hundreds of years before. I saw no contradiction. — Eavan Boland Copy Share Image
