tales from urban dilettantia



This is a weird little story for you, apropos of nothing.

Before beginning, I ought to mention that I think I’ve seen the film.  It begins by setting the scene.  There’s a woman, on leave from her place of work.  She and her best friend spend the days studying, writing, smoking, drinking coffee, reading and talking philosophy.  They are productive, and for the most part, quiet.  It is a bright, clear winter.  I’ve heard the soundtrack; a little post-rock, a little eerie, a suggestion of distance.

And then, a postcard arrives in the mail, not to her house, but to her ex-husband’s address.  The name’s nearly hers – one letter out, and the same as her dead grandmother’s.  It’s written in French, postmarked Paris, and talks about a family gathering at a cafe a short drive down the coast.  She wonders.

This is a weird little true story.  I only know the first part.

Category: storytelling


Leave a Reply


A Node's Place is in the Home Tern, Coffs Harbour Coffs Harbour Coffs Harbour Nudibranch, Arrawarra, NSW Sea Cucumber? Arrawarra, NSW Urchin, Arrawarra, NSW Starfish, Arrawarra, NSW Polychaete Worm, Arrawarra, NSW Shrimp, Arrawarra, NSW Shrimp, Arrawarra, NSW Mollusc, Arrawarra, NSW 

Creative Commons

All content published under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License.  Sharing is a beautiful thing.

Creative Commons License


@dilettantiquity is interested in an unreasonable number of things, including the wide and wonderful universe, happiness, well-being, wine, optimal human experience, non-violent communication, complex systems, existential nihilism, rationality, technology, grassroots organising, cacophony, music, creativity, learning and love.