Jan 2015 |

“Shandies” and Witches: Notes for an essay on Art and Exile | CLAUDIA RODRIGUEZ PONGA


She snatched up a tattered cloak lying in the cattle-shed to cover her nakedness, took wings, so to speak, and before midnight struck, found herself leagues away, far from any thoroughfare, on a desert heath all thistles and brambles.

The heath skirted a wood, where, under the glimpses of an uncertain moon, she was able to scrape together a few acorns, which she munched and bolted like a wild beast.

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