woman of letters
by Yermiyahu Ahron Taub sometimes I wish the sequence of thingscould have more closelyresembled the corpus of the Delft master—a series of moments of contemplation,delicate with import.framed by pale glow and white marble,how could my days not have assumed amantle of meaning?the sun flowing through the many diamond frameswould have illuminated my letters fromold friends and imagined beaus in warrens of anxiety.and I would…
