The Death of a Poet
Penelope Fitzgerald: Charlotte Mew, 23 May 2002
“... the studio, infecting everything which could be touched. The germs, Charlotte thought, must be the black specks which she saw everywhere, on her books and clothes. Before the Clean Air Acts, everything in London, as soon as the winter fogs began, was black, or blackish, by the end of the day. Charlotte, always immaculate in ... ”