My favorite author Donna Tartt has released her new novel after an excruciatingly long hiatus. I have been celebrating with lovely drinks, a new journal, fresh sheets, and long luxurious hours of soaking up her words.
“A wildneress of gilt, gleaming in the slant from the dust-furred windows: gilded cupids, gilded commodes and torchieres, and- undercutting the old-wood smell- the reek of turpentine, oil paint, and varnish. I followed him through the workshop along a path swept in the sawdust, past pegboards and tools, dismembered chairs and claw-foot tables sprawled with their legs in the air. Though a big man he was graceful, “a floater” my mother would have called him, something effortless and gliding in the way he carried himself. With my eyes on the heels of his slippered feet, I followed him up some narrow stairs and into a dim room, richly carpeted, where black urns stood on pedestals and tasseled draperies were drawn against the sun.”