For many years the author lived on the margin of society...mainly because she had been an American living in Europe.
As a single mother, raising a son outside of the mainstream was a difficult task.
Essentially the author was classless and stateless (quite Marxist). eventually being obliged to find a niche in writing and art in which to find refuge.
By keeping a journal, the author was free to cry into its pages, make comments, project the future...all that. For nearly 30 years that is what she did.
As an outcast.. the author was left to drift around the social sea of Europe, unattached, a wealthy American woman with an illegitimate son trying to make her way in the world of writing, perhaps literature...turning lonelinesss into poetry, turning separateness into creative output.
I don't NEED anybody..."just somebody to love..".
Many mistakes were made, but that is what life became...trial and error...a woman seeking her sexuality, her identity, her niche in a world run by men.
Many years would transpire.
... almost driven to the breaking point...the author was able to create from the ashes of her disasters, mistakes, and misadventures...anything so that she could escape the bourgeois trap of an unhappy marriage which would compromise her writing, art, madness, as well as any basic necessities...
Formentera
Formentera , the smallest of the Spanish Balearic Islands, was a haven for single mothers in the hippy days of the 60's and 70's and that's where my life led me. . Other strong survivalist women were there, some on their own with more than one child, some on their own with more than one man , women who had forgone marriage to do something with their lives....
So, leaving Paris in 1978 with a my seven year old daughter and a baby boy on my breast was the first step of one of the many chapters which would ultimately lead to final eviction from a stately finca on the island of Formentera, reunited, if only for a speck of time, with the father: mother/father/son...and the Holy Ghost. (a long story)
* * * * *
It seems like light years have passed.
Nevertheless, those years were packed with incredible sensations, experiences, visions...a life intensified by the lack of material excesses.
Those almost twenty years that were spent on Formentera would blurr except for the fact that I preserved magic moments with a myriad of photos , a myriad of poems and a myriad of tears shed from being far from family and old friends....
but, it had to be done...
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