Driving to Siegfried in Tears
By Naomi Louisa O’Connell How much of a person can one ever really know? Our language struggles to grasp it: “I know you inside and out, backwards and forwards, tell me everything, I love every inch of you… All of me, why not take all me?” As a child, I suppose the first image that the word “muse” conjured for me was of some hovering, half-nude female floating in a shell. I don’t remember where I might have seen it—possibly a Monty Python cartoon. I do remember the first time I learned what the word actually meant; I remember [...]