Sylvia Plath Found In England

We were in a small picturesque town – Petersfield – where I’d just had my first proper English cream tea. He suggested we stop into the used bookstore. It was undergoing a renovation and chaos reigned with huge unordered stacks of books all over the place:

I busied myself looking at old maps:

As we left, he handed me something. I held in my hand a tiny volume of Sylvia Plath poems:

Delight! Joy! Even awe!

I opened it to find an intriguing bit of marginalia:

It is now one of my most prized possessions.

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Comments

  1. Goosebumps!

  2. okay what’s the deal with Zoltan?

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