Pipits and wagtails and maybe a song sparrow or two, breakfast from my very old bird feeder in my terrace garden around 5:30 in the mornings. It delights me to see them beak down, as they pick up, then thrust their heads up. Sometimes out of the blue - a seed will fly out of their beak grasp. That seed flying into the air reminds me of how a memory will fly into your head… also, out of the blue.
Like it did, a month after Ghislaine Maxwell was rounded up for arrest in the Jeffrey Epstein case. I was glancing at her name in a magazine when it suddenly dawned on me. Out of the blue again.
Her last name wasn’t just Maxwell. Her father was the Robert Maxwell - flamboyant, incendiary and mysterious press baron of Britain and the man on the private yacht who asked me to walk with him on the Castle of the Knights promenade in Rhodas, Greece over thirty- years ago.