chapter nine

I was reading the Bell Jar, the story of Esther Greenwood and she did something I could never do. So, she has the chance to spend a month in New York working at a fashion magazine and as the time to leave comes she:

"I was my last night

I grasped the bundle I carried and pulled at a pile tail. A strapless elasticized slip which, in the course of the weat, had lost its electricity, slumped into my hand. I wave it, like a flag of truce, once, twice… The breeze caught it, and I let it go.

A white flake floated out into the night, and began its slow descent. I wondered on what street or rooftop it would come to rest.

I tugged at the bundle again.

The wind made an efford, but failed, and batlike shadow sank towards the roof garden of the penthouse opposite.

Piece by piece, I fed my wardrobe to the night wind, and the flutteringly, like a loved ones’s ashes, the grey scraps were ferried off, to settle here, there, exactly where I would never know, in the dark heart of New York."

I could never throw my clothes to the air, but I guess it most feel great.