Wildly impetuous, missing note

Usage examples of violetta.

All alone with the golden thoughts and the quiet poems, I search again for Violetta and the angel and the blue light of heaven.

When Violetta scratched her legs on the blackberry bushes at the bottom of the garden, she lay down on the grass and we watched the bright bubbles of beady blood as they pushed up through the slits in the skin.

I lay quite still on the cushions with my stones around me and books and beads and all my golden treasures and the pastel I did of Violetta, and also my teddy and dolly and golly.

I think of Violetta sleeping, a picture of death, of beautiful violet death.

I place the heart of Violetta in the centre of the circle of the stones and stare and stare until I move into a trance.

I sit for hours in the shadows of the convent garden, sometimes playing on the swings we used to play on when Violetta still was here.

I stare at my eyes in the mirror and I think of Sophie, Jane, Sebastian and their brothers and sisters, my baby babies, Violetta and Violetta and Violetta, the Violetta triplets.

Since Violetta and I were in the garden busy with a plate of cakes, we were assumed to be innocent, although suspicion forever cast its wondering shadow across us, wrinkled its brow and glanced sideways and long at us.

When the afternoon tea in the music room was progressing with its Lapsang Souchong and a little Schubert, we tiptoed in the side door and Violetta stood on the chair beneath the clock.

Then Violetta said she had always wanted to make time go backwards, and her fingers traced a path to the centre of the clockface, and I watched as she pushed the minute hand anticlockwise.

Round and round it went, slowly at first, then faster, and when it seemed to be whirling I looked away and watched Violetta in the mirror on the opposite wall.

I will never forget Violetta, a cut glass Italian girl who wore the face of love.

For days she drifted in and out of this state, sometimes speaking in a high, clear voice, telling her novices of their faults, telling Jesus of her love for him, describing her Little Way, singing simple, childish hymns, speaking of Violetta, a beautiful Italian angel, laughing with her sisters at the beach, describing scenes of rape and seduction and murder.

I wish, I wish I could get a letter from Violetta, a Violetta-letta on violet-scented paper.

She thinks she has a right to take Violetta from me, but I will outwit and outfox her, you can be sure of that.