All
of the Waveses are: a story in themselves. Distinguishable from each
other; and yet I sometimes forget whom is speaking. They are all
waves of the same sea, flowing and curving. I am Jinny; I am Susan; I
am Rhoda. I am in my school uniform, the rich green, the dark blue; I
see the various mirrors I have looked into: where in the room they
were placed, what they showed, what they cut off; I am absorbed in a
day-dream as scenes of life flash past car windows.
JINNY:
There is nothing staid, nothing settled, in this universe.
Time
flows forwards, backwards; memories rise, fall.
BERNARD:
There is a wandering thread lightly joining one thing to another.
I
am Jinny; I am Susan; I am Rhoda.
I
am now Bernard: too complex; I float, unattached. Now Neville, with
some fatal hesitancy in my make-up. Now Louis; even Percival. I am
all.
See The
Waves by Virginia Woolf.
Picture credit: Receding Waves, 1883, Claude Monet (source: WikiArt)
Written June 2022.
