The thing about dictatorships, and oppressive regimes in general, is that there is no freedom of speech.
Somewhere between the web and the weft of words— in the space where the feeling of life almost forms a thought —is the realm of being at one with the plant.
We drank tea, and she forced litres of barley water down my throat to ward off any cold I might have caught.
This is my response to the idea that we should affix pre-designed icons to the type of work we produce. There is a choice of three: 100% human translation, 100% iffy (also known as MT or machine translation, in its various permutations), or so-called hybrid translation. If you can find the link yourself, you can... Continue Reading →
A few days after spotting the street sign bearing his name, Sant Narcís would assume greater importance in my life and the lives of my two travelling companions.
What occurs next is a slight timetable train smash. But that's okay, because you have handled such convergences before.
Next year, I will know that destemming all the grapes before drying them is absolutely essential. It avoids having to do what becomes a very picky job when the fruit has already dried. It also avoids eating most of the produce. As it is, I remove a stalk, and pop the raisin in my mouth. ... Continue Reading →
You can imagine me at my desk dressed in an old long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots, all of which became muddier as the day progressed.
There is something calming about watching the slow progress of grapes drying to form raisins, especially when I am all flushed in the evening from a four-kilometre walk in weather still too hot to give serious credence to the coming of autumn. Both such activities form a useful adjunct to my too busy mind, and... Continue Reading →