By the pricking of my thumbs-
Something wicked this way comes....
--Macbeth Act IV, Scene I
If wild is wicked, then Wicked I Am. The whirling, swirling, impractical wilderness of the wicked is where I reside. In the unusual places of the heart- where nature crashes into nurture crashes into nature- that is where I reside.
And if this Little Witch is anywhere a part of anything- she is a part of the whirling, swirling, constant air of the natural mother, the greatest of all. Constantly a part of that impractical wilderness of nature which is really the most practical, the most perfect place of being.
By the pricking of my thumbs-
Something wicked this way comes....
