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Saturday, April 07, 2012

Happy Easter-to-come from little M.


See there?
Little M. with her hair in a fat braid.
Little M. in footies with her father and a Christmas stocking
   made by a nice librarian at the Louisiana State Library.
Little M. with a book bag! She loves Mrs. Stringfellow.
Little M. in her little desk.
Little M. likes to read!
There she is in Louisiana, land of magic, but she still wants a book.

Chapter one of A Death at the White Camellia Orphanage at Scribd

11 comments:

  1. Okay, this...this is my most favorite post ever.

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  2. I recognize little M's smile, it hasn't changed, nor her love of books and magic.

    Did I ever tell you that when I was little, I had trouble saying my full name and called myself Marlee, with a Finnish pronunciation of course?

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  3. Hi Marja-Leena--

    No, but that's very cute! We must be related!

    xo

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  4. I can tell everything about you by looking at the placement of furniture and room accessories and the way you hold yourself, etc.
    Things are very carefully placed in this, by the way. To the inch. Your parents had 'an eye' (?)|

    In my opinion, I think we have an award winning novelist here.

    OH! *blush!* I was right!
    (Lovely photographs, Marly. Lovely post altogether)

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  5. Paul,

    I love it when you put on your robe and your conical hat with the sprinkling of stars and when your prophetic side comes to the fore!

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  6. Hey, all vigils are over, and it is certainly Easter Day! Have a grand one!

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  7. Happy Easter Marly. You are very demure, posing for the camera in your undies.
    Hope you're feeling better today!

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  8. Oh, I think those may have been shorts, given the hot weather in Louisiana!

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  9. I love these, love the spareness of the images. As for 'little M', well I feel there's an illustrated book to be got out of the notion of her going about her business in these strangely empty yet compelling spaces, so perfect for a child whose imagination is so richly furnished!

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  10. Those are grad school digs!

    Well, my father was at LSU, and my mother was working at the Louisiana State Library. They were young, though my dad had been a teenage tail gunner in the war...

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Alas, I must once again remind large numbers of Chinese salesmen and other worldwide peddlers that if they fall into the Gulf of Spam, they will be eaten by roaming Balrogs. The rest of you, lovers of grace, poetry, and horses (nod to Yeats--you do not have to be fond of horses), feel free to leave fascinating missives and curious arguments.