Filed under: art, fairly trivial, feminism, narcissism, random thoughts, student life
… I would be able to finish this sentence in French. As things are, I can still read certain things and ask about the restroom. If I were her, I would be quite shameless in decorating my apartment with Elliott Erwitt’s portraits of myself. I wonder if de Beauvoir had a secret room where she retired to absorb them in narcissistic abandon.
As an existentialist, she might have discarded the temptation that I would probably act upon: to haunt him sometimes as a punishment for publishing all those photo albums about dogs after my demise.
My presentation on America Day by Day already done and delivered, I will reread The Second Sex and leave Mr. Erwitt in peace. Note to self: keep growing the hair, get an interesting necklace and shawl, and practice elegantly nonchalant occupation of uncomfortable chairs.
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