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126333286 Offline

  • Divorced, Woman seeking a Man
  • 68 years old from Orlando, FL
  • Logged in: more than 60 days ago
  • Last Update: 11/22/2012
Have kids:
2
Wants kids:
No
Height:
5' 2" (157 cm)
Religion:
Culturally Jewi…
Smoke:
Non-Smoker
Education:
Master's Degree
Occupation:
Education/Teach…
Synagogue:
Never
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About Me

If any of the following is alien to you, too abstruse or just plain annoying, don't bother contacting me! I enjoy studying LANGUAGES and LITERATURE, baroque and classical MUSIC, love to sing, play piano, both classical and baroque. People tell me my voice is haunting. I love Oriental ART ( Persian and Turkish,Chinese Japanese), the Gutenberg Library where I found "Il Libro Nero", a tale of how the devil is really good, trying to save humanity from illusion. I enjoy reading nineteenth century feuilletons, which are very Dickensian. I grew up in a four room apartment with over 10,000 BOOKS. We had them in the linen closet! hope to find someone KIND, THOUGHTFUL, amusing and INTELLIGENT. I retain an interest in my major in French literature at Barnard and my specialization at YALE. I have absolutely NO interest in boating, auto shows, motorcycles or beaches, though I like to enjoy the scenery. I love classical and baroque music. I play Bach, Handel, Beethoven on the piano. I lve MUSEUMS, architectural masterpieces and icons of a culture. I have lived in cities on every continent save Africa and Australia, have toured Buenos Aires, Argentina, Colonia, Uruguay. but I'm also content with a walk near a lovely lake. Beaches and sunsets are fine, but not overwhelming. I've no interest in motorcycles or realty. If you want to understand me, read this poem I wrote. In Memory of my Dad, Bibliophile I thought this yellowed picture of my dad might help others understand me. It might shed a light on what I like to do, and make it easier for others to communicate with me. I feel that it encompasses my real personality. In memory of my Dad, Bibliophile Every shelf, every nook, Heaving with a giant book, Smells of dusty ancient must, Papa golden in the light, Moving pages in the night. Treasured booty tossed by time, Thoughts and jewels from every clime, Pirates gold, tales twice told Before my childish eyes unfold. Trusting hand in his I go, Slogging through the sparkling snow, Where fragile daisies brightly glow, Ugly dogma plowed below. There I live if you would know. Viewing tales of glee and woe

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