About five years ago, I met the brilliant and vivid Natasha Chichilnisky-Heal and have spent much of the time since arguing for her life against a daemonic spiritual hitchhiker her soul had picked up. I guess you could say I lost. Early on the morning on November 18, for reasons not entirely clear, her fierce heart quit beating. On December 2, I found myself in the industrial grey drizzle of a New Jersey graveyard, looking down at an earthen jar said to contain her earthly remains and trying to say something remotely adequate about the human supernova that had been her life. (As a teenager, she organized Mongolian financial institutions.) Mysteriously, she seems as alive as ever to me.
Posted on: Mon, 08 Dec 2014 06:35:33 +0000
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