So we are off again, driving up the mountains to reach the other side. On the way we pass this brightly decorated art studio near Blackheath. Would you believe when the artist painted it, some people complained in the local paper about the nude.
As far from pity, as complaint by Emily Dickinson
"As far from pity, as complaint --
As cool to speech -- as stone --
As numb to Revelation
As if my Trade were Bone --
As far from time -- as History --
As near yourself -- Today --
As Children, to the Rainbow's scarf --
Or Sunset's Yellow play
To eyelids in the Sepulchre --
How dumb the Dancer lies --
While Color's Revelations break --
And blaze -- the Butterflies!"