George, the big white cat, likes to sneak into your girl's bedroom, lick her nose, then snuggle into her lap and purr like rumbling train. Unfortunately, he also likes to dig his claws semi-lightly into her legs.
Fiorella has just discovered a pack of Christmas poems she wrote a while back that will probably find its way to to Fio's holiday greetings during "the season." (As an aside, does anyone know how to get the attention of some card manufacturers?)
In fact, your girl is getting tired of turning out top quality products and not being noticed. Come to think of it, the situation was often the same when she was teaching. What counted was contacts.
Alone
So many know my name and yet so few
Know me; I'm more and less than what I seem
To be, called friend by money people who
Know me as I know night by chance moonbeam.
Chameleon-like, I change my psychic skin
Depending whom I'm with and what the day,
Unending fitting, never fitting in,
Amending how I look and what I say...
Unclothed and mute, inside myself I know
My soul complete, its multiplicity
A whole; but outside actor-like I show
The role I choose, or fate assigns to me....
And as no one can know my entity,
I know no one, but only simile (1990)
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