I wish to share with the world your beauty
Elegance and poise,
Powerful and yet serene.
Your charm, finesse–
No words amount to your grandeur,
From the way you carried yourself
I’ve learned eminently.
When you parted
An exquisite rainbow appeared.
I can still feel you near–
Guiding me through the years.
I became a woman in your image
And till this day and forever more
You shall be revered–
For you taught me life
Taught me wrong from right–
Taught me love.
Dedicated to my guardian angel–
Odete Machado Stafin
Found on display in the Mitchell Park Library in Palo Alto. Second photo is us around the same time Paola Gianturco was writing the book. We are featured in one of the chapters of this fascinating book with grandmother activists worldwide.
Things my book has as of today: physical form, and some (frankly excellent) jacket copy:
Hanging out with Chris was supposed to make Lorelei’s life normal. He’s cooler, he’s older, and he’s in a band, which means he can teach her about the music that was forbidden in her house growing up. Her grandmother told her when she was little that she was never allowed to sing, but listening to someone else do it is probably harmless— right?
The more she listens, though, the more keenly she can feel her own voice locked up in her throat, and how she longs to use it. And as she starts exploring the power her grandmother never wanted her to discover, influencing Chris and everyone around her, the foundations of Lorelei’s life start to crumble. There’s a reason the women in her family never want to talk about what their voices can do.
And a reason Lorelei can’t seem to stop herself from singing anyway.
Please give me a detailed analysis of the color orange.
Orange is warm and comforting, joyful and prideful, happy and exuberant. It is fire and hearth and a warm blanket made by a grandmother. It is power and energy and luck. It is the blossoms in the height of summer, when the only relief from the heat is to dive headfirst into a body of water. Orange is gathering around a campfire at night, surrounded by family, roasting marshmallows, and having a cold back, because the night is chilly, but the fire is almost too warm, so you don’t want to stand too close. Orange is, simply, fun.
I don’t think Lydia’s grandmother is the benefactor. She gave Lydia an urn of Mountain Ash in a moutain ash lake house. Seems like she is trying to protect Lydia, not kill her… so if Lydia’s grandmother was the benefactor why would she put Lydia on the dead pool?
So, I think Lydia’s grandmother is a very powerful and accomplished banshee who is able to sense/predict deaths for a long time in the future. Like, maybe he sensed Lydia’s death via the dead pool is trying to give her tools and information to protect herself. That’s why the note is in the same code as the dead pool, so Lydia would recognize it.
Xototl appeared quite bored, draped leisurely over the black chair in the foyer of her brightly lit chamber. "You cannot bring a soul back from the Ollas, Ostium," she said, referring to the sanctuary of heavenly souls, where Sanuj looked after the gate. "Your daughter is dead. Your fiancee is dead. They are at peace. Leave them there."
“I don’t care about Pictor. He lived a long life. He deserves to be at peace. But my daughter. She didn’t have a chance to live. She never got to live. Never left my body. If I have to start a heavenly war, I will.” Ostium smiled. Coroth wanted that, actually. Coroth longed for enemies that were a challenge to kill. “Aryanna belongs to the Arithal pantheon. By denying us her, you’re challenging my grandmother’s power. And she won’t like that. But oh well. No matter what, I’ll get my daughter. It just depends if you want to end up like Verlis and Veruath or not.”