Greetings from the Great Wall of London, whither I have come in search
of those silent masters who have lent me their eyes and their hands and
their nimble spirits. A little white monkey was here to receive me, it
seems he had been warned by the Peach Blossom Fairy of my imminent
arrival. Imagine the honour… Tonight the two of us will
drink plum wine by bright moonlight and toast every one of the sacred
mountains by name. If that doesn’t bring the poets flocking,
I don’t know what will. There is snow on every one of the
high-topped towers, and deep as feathers in every farmyard. Spring will
be coming soon, on dragonfly wings.
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Read GA's "Mary's Tale."
w i g · l e a F