|Georgia O'Keeffe Series I, no. 2 (1918)|
But after life. The slow pulling down of thick green stalks so that the cup of the flower, as it turns over, deluges one with purple and red light. Why, after all, should one not be born there as one is born here, helpless, speechless, unable to focus one's eyesight, groping at the roots of the grass, at the toes of giants. . . . There will be nothing but spaces of light and dark, intersected by thick stalks, and rather higher up perhaps, rose-shaped blots of an indistinct colour -- dim pinks and blues -- which will, as time goes on, become more definite.
"The Mark on the Wall" (CSF 84) First published 1917
Rpt. in Monday or Tuesday