I have started to comb through the blog, fine tooth style. I plan to archive the archive. I may tweak some things, delete some posts, fix some typos. I’m going through it all, rehashing it, if you will. I’m mining more sense out of this, finding more meaning, identifying more patterns. Perhaps…finding a way to form this all into, yes!, a book?
I started at the beginning, my first post.
In it I write:
These diaries hold endless surprises yet I search for the familiar, the connection, verification, that such a long life really existed, every moment of it. Someday she wont be with us any longer and I wish to preserve her life, to pay homage to it.
The reverence I had for these journals, her stories, and her was apparent. I felt like I was embarking on a magical quest. This was two and a half years ago and none of that feeling has died. At times I’m even rushing because I can’t wait to hear about her experience during WWII. The drama is building and it is going to be so intense.
I’m thinking about making artwork, collages to be exact, using “Babu Lines” that jump out to me. I’m thinking about writing black out poems with photocopies of pages. I still snort laughter and some times squirm in my chair if things are going badly. I work on or think about this project every day. I care greatly, still, for all these people, even though all but one of them is gone. None of the magic has faded.