Alentejo dreaming

The cork trees here were not found in my childhood.

Sometimes battered hampers

There, you see, nothing was lost in the process of real translation.

Lesbo Manifesto

So should you happen to scorn or fail to comprehend or accept who I am, respect my soul, and what I have and haven't done, as I respect life and love itself.

Incarnadine was not the word

Incarnadine was not the word, but it was the word from which we wrung the bloody red that we needed in the words that thrust the end of the novel into the universe with all that which preceded it. It is a pity my Macbeth faltered just when it would have been nice to toss... Continue Reading →

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