Two Fridays back, intending to write this note but weary, I turned my laptop off for the day.
A train ride took me to Newtown with a vague idea to walk and browse, maybe watch a movie, sit in a cafe and discreetly observe passing life.
At the Dendy I smiled to myself and rolled the dice, asking for a ticket to the next movie showing.
I confess to a momentary pause on discovering it was titled, ‘On The Basis of Sex’ … too early in the day for eros?
With half an hour to wait, Elizabeth’s second hand book shop called me.
Where a Leonard Cohen biography stared from the centre of a trestle table. An aunt who came of age in the sixties, once said he was a better poet than Dylan and more deserving of that Nobel literature prize. So the $14 seemed a bargain for me to decide for myself.
I notice my curiosity turning toward the ways art in all forms can stimulate and sustain a human spirit.
The film was excellent, telling of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s early legal career fighting sex discrimination. However, what caught my attention and really moved me was the portrayal of Ruth’s relationship with her daughter Jane. Clearly it was a mirror I needed to look into that day.
Afterwards sitting with coffee, feeling a little out of place on bohemian King Street, I skimmed my new book.
Refreshed by a day of small, unexpected finds.