I saw the movie Iris, depicting the bohemian life of brilliant author Iris Murdoch.
I've yet to check fact against cinematic license. Nevertheless, when in the full and tragic throes of Alzheimers, she was shown on the seashore with pad and pen[cil] in hand. What a location from which to draw inspiration. In horrifying stead, she studiously tore page upon page from the notebook, placing each leaf upon the sand, a sea-smoothed stone placed thereupon to fix it solid against the gusting wind. That ... that, her latest literary endeavor....
This sad portrayal of a talented woman forever lost - whether true or apocryphal - shivered my timbers and writer's hand.
Thoughts?
Love,
CoCo