Sometimes a word or two in Pillcrest’s poems jingled. More occasionally a couple of words made sense. They flowed from her lips in a sing-song gurgle, spinning like pennies, and slapping down dead. Mrs. Pillcrest was a small, spare woman with opaque blue eyes. While the poems were tinkling…
As the world war progressed rentals went down till it became impossible to meet living expenses without throwing in my every resource. I had no time to paint so had to rent the studio flat and make do myself with a basement room and a tent in my back…
Coming up Simcoe Street I stopped short and nearly strangled! There, stretched right across the front windows of the Doll’s Flat, the street side of my respectable apartment house, dangled from the very rods where my fresh curtains had been when I went out–one huge suit of men’s natural…
hosted, designed & maintained by Marilyn Jones for the walks & talks, bus tours and presentations she offers on Emily Carr in-person and online from Victoria, BC.
