My children will not grow to know this day as a celebration. They will learn the heavy truths of the suffering that occurred during this time. They will not be sheltered from the painful reality of our history to follow along in this new tradition of celebration, when remembering is more appropriate for the occasion. We will acknowledge the true Australians of this land we have all laid claim to. We will recognise and validate exactly what this day represents. We will say how sorry we are in our hearts and ask to be forgiven, for the undeniably unforgivable.

 

 

 

A Room of One’s Own

So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery, and the sacrifice of wealth and charity which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison.

Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own

the mother, 1949

“there has been an enormous amount of talk about the sacred rights of women, but being a mother is not how women gained the right to vote; the unwed mother is still scorned; it is only in marriage that the mother is glorified- in other words, as long as she is subordinate to the husband. As long as he is the economic head of the family, even though it is she who cares for the children, they depend far more on him than on her. This is why, as has been seen, the mother’s relationship with her children is deeply influenced by the one she maintains with her husband. So conjugal relations, homemaking and motherhood form a whole in which all the parts are determinant; tenderly united to her husband, the wife (mother) can cheerfully carry out the duties of the home; happy with her children, she will be understanding of her husband. But this harmony is not easy to attain, for the different functions assigned to the wife(mother) conflict with each other. Women magazines amply advise the housewife on the art of maintaining her sexual attraction while doing the dishes, of remaining elegant throughout pregnancy, of reconciling flirtation, motherhood and economy; but if she conscientiously follows their advice, she will soon be overwhelmed and disfigured by care; it is very difficult to remain desirable with chapped hands and a body deformed by pregnancies; this is why women in love often feel resentment of the children who ruin her seduction and deprive her of her husbands caresses; if she is, by contrast, deeply maternal, she is jealous of the man who also claims the children as his. But then, the perfect homemaker, as has been seen, contradicts the movement of life: The child is the enemy of waxed floors. Maternal love is often lost  in the reprimands and outbursts that underlie the concern for a well-kept home. It is not surprising that the woman torn between these contradictions often spends her day in a state of nervousness and bitterness; she always loses on some level, and her gains are precarious, they do not count as any sure success. She can never save herself by her work alone; it keeps her occupied, but does not constitute her justification: her justification rests on outside freedoms. The wife (mother) shut up in her home cannot establish her existence on her own; she does not have the means to affirm herself in her singularity: and this singularity is consequently not acknowledged.”

Simone de Beauvoir, the Second Sex 1949

 

 

takings from.. Simone de Beauvoir, The Prime of Life

IMG_2632“I spotted a hut in the middle of a field, near the Château de Rosay, its windows glinting in the sun, and the word café painted in giant letters on the roof. I went in for a drink, and asked the proprietor if he had rooms to let . He offered me a little cottage some fifty yards off, with a thatched roof on which iris was in bloom. The following week I spent five days there. There were red tiles on the floor of my room, and i slept in a farmhouse bed under a plumped-out blue eiderdown: at five in the morning I awoke to the sound of cocks crowing. Eyes still shut, I let myself drift between sleeping and waking, between mornings long past and the light now welling up behind my shutters. When i opened the cottage door, there was green grass, and trees all in blossom. I would go and have coffee, and put a table up under an apple tree, and become once more that little girl doing her holiday task under the catalpa tree at Meyrignac. It was to her that i was now offering what, in various forms, she had so often dreamed of: a little house to herself. ”

 

-Simone be Beauvoir, The Prime of Life

sacred spaces

Religion is, as I say, something universal and something human, and something impossible to eradicate, nor would I want to eradicate it. I am a religious person, although I am not a believer.

Philip Pullman

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These pictures were taken from a few of the many breathtakingly beautiful churches around Italy.  I always love the feeling that becomes present when you first step through the doors into these places, and take the moment to really see, what it is that is surrounding you. Religious or not, believer  or non, really it doesn’t matter or is of concern. You are welcome into the divinity of these walls that have been standing for the test of time. They have heard and hold deep within the deepest of secrets, immeasurable stories and prayers to  ever be recounted. These places are sacred, not only by vertue of religious believers but by their very presence and the silence they keep on all that has ever been confided. It is here, that it is for ever memorable that I light a candle for the passing of my mum’s dearest friend, Ruth.

thoughts on Venice

Venice, she’s relic, loved passionately, admired for all her beauty,taken

advantage of, mistreated, deep in-depth, full of secrets, helpless, relentless, breathtakingly beautiful, fierce yet ravishing, seductive in nature and history, provocative, hidden, devastatingly captivating and deeply mysterious in all her ways..  how could you not fall madly, deeply in love with her.

-carly macaulay

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“You may have the universe if I may have Italy… -Giuseppe Verdi

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It’s alluring, but complicated. It’s the kind of place that can have you fuming and then purring in the space of a hundred metres, or in the course of ten minutes.

Beppa Severgnini, La Bella Figura

 

IMG_4356 IMG_4330 IMG_4329ZàZà Ristorante Trattoria Firenze  -Piazza del mercato centraleIMG_4629IMG_4654lovely Venice..IMG_4944IMG_5004IMG_5010IMG_4946Artists Apartment, Trastvere, RomaIMG_4056 IMG_3627 IMG_3585IMG_5007cobble stone paths and names for remembering IMG_3614 IMG_3610 IMG_3586 IMG_3609 IMG_4047Luca, waiting for un caffè, NO NAME CAFE, TRASTEVEREIMG_4060 IMG_4061 IMG_3855 IMG_3860the open door bookshop, Via della Lungaretta, 23 Trastevere 00153 Rome,Italy Ph:+39065896478IMG_2859 IMG_4936 IMG_3616 IMG_4986

 

artists apartment

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Of all the places we stayed while on this wonderful adventure, this was probably the one I would say we fell in love with the most. Called the Artist Apartment set in the heart of Trastevere; it was love at first sight. From the moment the door opened and we were introduced my heart knew that this place was going to be hard to leave. We were welcomed with wonderful art, hanging plants, crisp white sheets.. it was like it already knew who we were.  The windows were large and when left open, we would wake to the warm air and sound of Rome beginning its day, coffee grinders and pleasant chatter, the smell of fresh croissants and pastries. Such a world away from all that I have ever known. This place, lent itself to inspiration, for writing, for dreaming, loving and being still. It was here that we found our Italy,the one we held so close in our hearts. It was here that all we ever thought it would be, Was.

Artists Apartment Trastereve, Rome https://www.airbnb.com.au/rooms/1418867?s=2k-A

Roma’s own, shakespeare and company’

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Roma’s secret, in the quaint cobble stone lane ways of the old town Trastevere, hides this priceless little book shop that quietly sits with its door open, awaiting or not any one who happens to pass by. It has managed somehow to remain untouched and unharmed by the many wondering tourists. For any respectful lover of books, to step into this shop you are immediately filled with a profound affection for the literary authors of past times. This is truly a memorable moment. This is not a place for hasty decisions but rather deep breaths of gratitude and contemplation of all that lies upon the shelves, each book having already passed through one or many hands before, touching fellow beings and shaping lives. The shelves are filled from wall to wall and to the high ceilings, calling you to look deeply and with a sense of faith that the right book shall make its way into the palms of your hands. This truly is the authentic Shakespeare and Company of Roma. If ever in Rome, seek out this untouched wonder and treat yourself to a little slice of literary heaven.

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find,

OPEN DOOR BOOK SHOP http://www.books-in-italy.com, opendoor@books-in-italy.com

Via della Lungaretta, 23 Trastevere 00153 Rome,Italy Ph:+39065896478