I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story.
From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
- The Bell Jar (1963) by Sylvia Plath, 1932-1963
Welcome to American Grey | light
This site stands in the shadow of American Grey | frames, my (closed) original photoblog 2005-2009.
Many of my earlier postings are reproduced here together with pastings of Comments made at the time.
All images Copyright AmericanGrey 2005-2019.
Visitors may also be interested in my ‘feathered friends’ site at Avian Grey.