“Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet’s heart when caught and tangled in a woman’s body?”, laconically said Virginia Woolf, one of the greatest poetesses of all time, confessing her sorrow in A Room of One’s Own. An awful inner torment that felt by many female intellectuals like her. Often more cultured, witty and refined than many of their male counterparts, they were relegated to the narrowest corners of history if not to total anonymity. These were women who possessed an absolutely exclusive and intriguing sensibility, but forced, in order to survive economically and socially, to lead…


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