What you also really need is... a bucket for all those unwanted commas, a sense of humour and a sense of the serious.
Bucket for the unwanted
Sons of the morning
At least stars are feminine in Portuguese and, I rather fancy, come out in the evening. It was at eventide that I took some fat oil pastel sticks and made this bad drawing of the house opposite. I made it much brighter than it actually is because that is how it looks with foreign eyes... Continue Reading →
Smashed nuts
You probably think I should have said cracked, but these almonds, which I picked off the pavement under my neighbour's tree this afternoon, were smashed with the hammer. The pliers, about thirty years old and kept chiefly for sentimental reasons, were used merely to secure the nut in place. As each shell was opened, I... Continue Reading →
Sitting on the thumbs of kings
My dear friend knows that I would never pass up the opportunity of sitting on four royal thumbs in a holy place.
Meh, and the fuck-it generation
They have been validated by the sophistry that everything is defined by how the egocentric individual feels about it.
Scrabble tiles & string bikinis
My beloved, who could not spell for toffee, was good at spotting the high-value gaps on the board.
Lisboa is a woman
She surprises me with... a more expansive than imagined body, heart and soul.
That elusive pair of jeans 