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one of my first walks down to the river alone, just absolutely rapt at the sight of it - shining silver & alive with blinks of surfacing invisible fishes, perfect circles printed moving, one, another, constant; expansive and beautiful; I couldn't believe, for a moment, that I just live here, a short walk away. I didn't grow up near water at all.
so ( Read more... ) -
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I have three course essays to write-I will find a way-but yes, yes, yes, I am pointing my ship back here. there's a tide!
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The moon yesterday was magnificent, an exact half, lying down on its back. Church on an outcrop and some of its Norman features subsiding downhill. M asks a hug and comes to sit by me as I radiate warmth I've stored from the heater. The window view from the bus, every time, this one colours and the huge flock of doves dark against a certain blue ( Read more... ) -
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As if we are windbreaks, sometimes well planted, sometimes holding strong. And temporary, provisional. Good, and strong, and fit for purpose. Some days simply not there at all.
My way of showing is by telling, and my way of telling is - slow, sometimes, like the spirits of rocks.
I imagine the slow self-belief of rocks. -
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V.
I do not
regret
that
I am
imperfect.
In each crack
there is
an orchid
growing
& chocolate
serves
me
when
I
slip
from
grace.
I do not
relish
perfection
or sainthood.
Flying
through
this
existence
as
myself
I honor
all
the
fierce
edges
I have
made
for
myself
&
the conundrums
I have
made
for
you.
- Alice ( Read more... ) -
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Here I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live.
ici, j'essaye de vivre ou plutôt j'essaye d'apprendre à vivre à la mort que je porte en moi. (*)
- Jean Cocteau to André Gide (after the death of Raymond Radiguet), 1924 -
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The way we write onto the meanings of things. Thoughts think themselves, and we ride them, drive them like beasts.
One writer's interpretation of Kristeva sits murmuring machinery-like in my head, quiet and warm, colouring the space of my waking. Everything lives most alive in the chora, in the semiotic; the symbolic is tool-use, is deliberative ( Read more... ) -
the flower
How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean ( Read more... ) -
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Amy said Cambridge reminded her of Denmark - the bicycles and the buildings. I'd sat in my room last week after a German class reading the student newspaper and went wide-eyed when I saw her name in the events listings and laughed with joy; we shared a music A-level class, and she was coming to do a recital at Kettle's Yard. I cycled up at ( Read more... )