My study had betrayed me.īranded like cattle, I became one dimensional. It was when I hit the brown stone building which housed all knowledge that I realised I didn’t belong.
Sitting on the couch while my father poked at the fireplace to “get it going”, mesmerised by the architecture of Versailles. Whether it be an infatuation with the Renaissance or an affair with the French Revolution. “Just LOOK at her, seriously she’s got no idea”Īs far as I can remember I have lusted after history. “So what’re you doing after class? I can walk you to the library I don’t teach until 2pm” “Do you even know what a Marxist historian is?” “Lovely, I don’t think you’re in the right room, can I help you find somewhere?” “Our sex need not primarily define who we are, what we are capable of, or what we can be expected to enjoy or engage in” Tara Moss, The Fictional Woman. “I then proceeded to sit down nearby and read a book as I waited for my plane, while they joked that I was probably reading a book upside down” – Tara Moss, The Fictional Woman
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