“One wants to be the needle in the haystack. Not the haystack.” – Don Draper One sister wants to be the needle. The other sister doesn’t want to be either one. My friend DE would prefer being the needle. Me? I would like to be the haystack.
“For people of my age,” she thinks, “the places that they truly loved and to which they once belonged are no longer there. The places of their childhood and youth have ceased to exist … And if their outer form has been preserved, it’s all the more painful, like a shell with nothing inside(…)
Vis our quarantine: I wrote the following short essay for Notting Hill Edition‘s newsletter as an introduction to a reprinted extract from FOUND AND LOST: Mittens, Miep and Shovelsful of Dirt: ‘Whilst quarantined with the symptoms of Coronavirus, I spend my days dozing, reading, streaming infotainment, writing, drinking coffee and savouring a single wedge of(…)
silk breeches Swiss and Scotch excepted rose up an inch taller said I to myself his father’s portmanteau an affair with the moon I fear forbidding it looked as if it looked more than myself swinging reproaches when the heart flies out pleasurable ductility with the best address
“Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air, is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies.” Erich Fromm Before it happened to me, I’d only known one person with it. This was an older/almost(…)