She might have felt dizzy, or had a fever that day, and felt unwell. In any case, the black man offered her his bed to lie on, and a book of poetry, by way of remedy.
But yes, this time of year there are Flanders poppies and daisies, the kind whose petals you can count to see if you are loved.
The thing that joined my birthday to that of my now deceased beloved woman was lasagne. My birthday is in early February and hers was in mid-March. Thirty years go, when I was twenty-four, I held the first birthday dinner of many for João, on the occasion of her thirty-first birthday. Yes, I served lasagne... Continue Reading →
Myth aside, the thing about Aphrodite rising from the waves is that she is no different from countless other women who, each in their own time and their own way, have stood, feet planted in the sand, naked and proud, while the waves and winds swirled about; women who felt strong, so mightily strong and... Continue Reading →