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+---
+title: epigraph
+subtitle: "– Sylvia Plath"
+genre: prose
+
+id: epigraph
+toc: "_epigraph_"
+
+project:
+    title: Elegies for alternate selves
+    class: elegies
+    order: 1
+    next:
+    - title: How to read this
+      link: howtoreadthis
+    prev:
+    - title: Death's Trumpet
+      link: deathstrumpet
+...
+
+I saw my life branching out before me like the [green fig tree][] in the story.
+From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked.
+One fig was a husband and a happy home and children,
+and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor,
+and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor,
+and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America,
+and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of [other lovers][] and queer names and offbeat professions,
+and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.
+I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to [death][], just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose.
+I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
+
+[other lovers]: spittle.html
+[death]: deathstrumpet.html
+[green fig tree]: peaches.html