Lea begyndte at læse Ali Smith for et par dage siden, og dette citat fra afsnittet “On form” har overbevist mig om at jeg skal igang:
(…) My heart is like a singing bird… My heart is like an appletree… Because my love is come to me. So simile maybe involve love too. Well, he or she was lucky, having a heart like an apple tree. Even a broken apple tree will know what to do, with a bit of help, to right itself and have its fruits again. Even after the worst storm damage, a tree, so long as there’s some green in the break, can be healed and mended and carry on growing. Unless, that is, the heart was like one of the literally thousands of kinds of apple tree that have dissapeared from the British Isles in reasonably history because of the way the supermarkets only really like to sell about five kinds of apple.
That would be something: to have a heart whose tree produced a fruit that had otherwise died out. (…)
Ali Smith: “Artful”. Penguin Books, 2013
