Thank you, you know the way to my heart and that is not always easy to find. I am finding my way too; you soothe me in my worry of not enough.
I hadn’t known what a literary salon was only that I wanted to host one or attend one when I found out.
The host would have people over, sometimes men and women, and they’d talk about literature and interests in general, not necessarily reading the same book as in a book club. I love how freeing that sounds and not so structured, but comfortable. I had read that besides talking about other literature and their interests, they might also share their own writing.
May Ziadeh was a literary host besides an author and she’d have people come to her house who enjoyed literature or were also writers to talk together and she’d serve them coffee and rose syrup.
I would’ve liked to attend. I would ask for the rose syrup. She might ask if I wanted coffee too, but no, just the syrup would be perfect. She might bring me a serving of it in a tiny cup and be amused. Before I left, I might let a folded poem accidentally fall out of my purse and then maybe I would accidentally leave it behind as I went back home.
It is morning now and I am ‘a-sunning in the sun.’
As in the poem:
I wish you sun and time to go a-sunning.