I found this on my computer as a Word document. Checking online, I discover it's from Museum without Walls, by Jonathan Meades We are surrounded by the greatest of free shows. Places. Most of them made by man, remade by man. Deserted streets, seething boulevards, teeming beaches, empty steppes, black reservoirs, fields of agricultural scrap,… Continue reading Cretinocracy
Category: essays
Blessed Life
This was written on December 14th, 2014. Back then, such thoughts came that I find astonishing today*. Simply to be alive is such a blessing that we rarely find ourselves able to grasp it. To grasp something is to feel it in the moment, not just as a logical proposition but an experienced reality, that… Continue reading Blessed Life
Two Absurd Testaments
we were living at 78b West Wycombe Road, the upstairs flat. We'd installed a table in a corner of the bay window to put our two newly-bought second=hand computers. I set up a website perpetual-lab.blogspot.com, and often drew inspiration by looking a the sky or the scenes below. My writing style was perhaps a little… Continue reading Two Absurd Testaments
Unblocking
Rescued from oblivion today I’ve been glad of the chance to edit some of Ghetufool’s work lately. Writing is something I’m driven to by an impulse that won’t be denied. So what to do when writer’s block strikes? Turn to religion, I suppose, as people do when they feel vulnerable and melancholy. A fellow-blogger* distinguishes… Continue reading Unblocking
A Cowardly Idle Fool
This post was rescued from perpetual-lab.blogspot.com as made available on the Internet Archive, 13 years after it was written What is this life, if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare? (W. H Davies, “Leisure”.) Go to the ant, thou sluggard. Consider her ways and be wise. (Proverbs 6:6) I’ve gone… Continue reading A Cowardly Idle Fool
The Grand Scheme of Things
Of all the wayfaring experiences recorded in a blog, this was the most wonderful. I was able to capture moment-to-moment feelings on my voice recorder, as transcribed below, Originally published in August 2010 on perpetual-lab.blogspot.com, which no longer exists. Fortunately I found a perfect copy to enjoy and share today (I’m on a section of… Continue reading The Grand Scheme of Things
Lucid Waking
At 06:07 I see things as imbued with meaning, like fragments written in a foreign language. Sometimes I can decipher them; sometimes even put them in English. For instance, from my bedroom window I can see the Victorian factory opposite. I wake as the early sun catches its gable ends. As on a sundial, it… Continue reading Lucid Waking
Helpful advice to men—from the 16th Century
from On the power of the imagination, an essay by Michel Montaigne, translated by J M Cohen: "I have personal knowledge of the case of a man for whom I can answer as for myself, and who could not fall under the least suspicion impotence or being under a spell. He had heard a comrade… Continue reading Helpful advice to men—from the 16th Century
A Brief History of Politics?
inspired by a new blog: A Platform for Politics and Culture Speech evolved from homo erectus's point and grunt for catching game in a team. It's presented as a series of steps explained in a talk by Wittgenstein, transcribed in The Brown Book, appended here. Thus creatures and things could be given names. Then speech… Continue reading A Brief History of Politics?
Holy Family
Ascension of Yemaya into the Waters 2019 I guess like other educated white males I haven’t understood the the accusation that came out so often last year in the Black Lives Matter campaigns, that people like me are “privileged”. Especially in the sense that there are things we may never be able to understand, such… Continue reading Holy Family
Invisibles
My guardian angel got her name by accident. It can be traced back to a difference between men and women, in which She (archetypal woman) does chores without remark or fuss. When she dares to interrupt His (archetypal man's) scholarly scribbling, and to ask him to lend a hand, he does so with a little… Continue reading Invisibles
While Unsleeping
A kind of liberation ensues when you accept the situation, displeasing as it may be, that you find yourself in at this moment. For example insomnia & remembrance of past mistakes—to name but one. For me, they are synonymous. Liberation is an art, the act of turning something round the other way. To embrace the… Continue reading While Unsleeping
Shapes
As I lay awake this morning before getting up, a great procession of thoughts came to visit me. Thoughts? I'm not sure what a thought is. They were dwelling-places of the imagination, like images from a waking dream. I guess they were prompted by my last post, which suggested I’d work on my life-story; and… Continue reading Shapes
The Bitter Taste
From Bryan White Occasionally, I like to revisit ideas that I disagree with, to see if I can find a reason to reconsider my position. It's a wonderful thing when something compels you to change your mind. It's like a whole new area of the game board opens up. Suddenly there are all these fresh… Continue reading The Bitter Taste
The Steps
From Bryan White So how did I get here? And what do I do now? There's a point when your kids are still little. They're little, but they're not babies anymore. They're starting to need their space. You're not just a young couple with a baby; you've officially reached that turning point where you're a… Continue reading The Steps
Smarts
From Bryan White From time to time, I come across these women online complaining that "Men are intimidated by smart women", and I can only presume that they're talking primarily about themselves, prompted by some personal experience that they found exasperating. The thing is, I'm not sure if this is something that's actually happening, or… Continue reading Smarts
The Fraud
(writing from Mumbai) As he sat in his armchair thinking about how useless his life had been, he couldn’t help contemplating his own mortality. Had he fallen from his motorbike a few inches further to the right, the van's tyre would have run over his head. Not that he was afraid of that possibility at… Continue reading The Fraud
An open letter to the person complaining . . .
A post from Bryan White Dear Sir or Madame, or however you're supposed to formally address the fragile star children from the planet Zir who have recently come to walk among us I saw a comment you left somewhere the other day, saying that you "can't stand" when people start sentences (or maybe it was… Continue reading An open letter to the person complaining . . .
The Coffee House: a brief history . . .
. . . from De Quincey to Starbucks Coleridge had published Kubla Khan in 1816. The first English translations of the Arabian Nights in the early 18th century had provided an aura of magic and violent intrigue. And The Travels of Marco Polo had been widely available since the Middle Ages. As a result, the… Continue reading The Coffee House: a brief history . . .
Girl with a Pearl Earring
From Bryan White I just finished reading Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier. A few posts back, when Vincent said that he was "inspired" by books that he was waiting to get in the mail, I was in a similar situation at the time with this book. It was sitting on my bookshelf,… Continue reading Girl with a Pearl Earring
Art as Generosity
Art is a way of giving to the world what one holds most precious John Sebastian Bach had good reason to be grumpy. There was scant appreciation for his enormous efforts. He didn't get paid for writing music. In those days there was a system of patronage. He'd be engaged by a city council or… Continue reading Art as Generosity
Carbon Footprint
From Bryan White In my last post, I gave a few examples of song lyrics that I claimed "created a piece of common ground." For the sake of giving a more complete picture, I figured that I should also try to give an example of poetry or lyrics that, in my opinion, fail in this… Continue reading Carbon Footprint
A Way with Words
From Bryan White My daughter writes poetry sometimes, and a few weeks ago, as I was drifting off to sleep, I was thinking about some advice that I gave her years back regarding poetry writing, and I was expanding on it in my head. I find that my thoughts are often addressed to someone I… Continue reading A Way with Words
Something Meaningful
From Bryan White On YouTube, I've been watching a number of different debates (more conversations, really) between Dr. Jordan Peterson and various prominent atheists and secular scholars. I'm not sure at this point who does or doesn't know who Jordan Peterson is. I've followed his ascent with interest though a few different waves of noteriety,… Continue reading Something Meaningful
The Poetic
From Bryan White For a long time, I was divided between two possible directions that I wanted go with my writing. On the one hand, I felt like I wanted to write something "intellectual" for lack of a better word, something that was like a complicated machine with all kinds of ideas and moving parts,… Continue reading The Poetic
The late V S Naipaul
The other day I briefly published a piece on the late V S Naipaul. It was a synopsis of a lecture he gave in 1990, which he called “Our Universal Civilization”(1). After 24 hours, with vague misgivings, I took it down again.(2) It was fun to revive an old skill, the one they used to… Continue reading The late V S Naipaul
Sail Away
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCRGrnhdNQE I can’t remember the train of thought, or musical musing, which led me from Laurie Anderson to Randy Newman. It may have gone in the other direction. I ordered “Sail Away” on the 10th of Jan., then posted the piece about Laurie (O Superman) 2 days later. They patently have much in common, being… Continue reading Sail Away
Rooted here
I've never been constrained by any sense of what this site is supposed to be about. It's always arisen from the urge to write a post, in the context of this moment in space and time. The topics have been innumerable, but after all these years I've realized there's no need to index them, when… Continue reading Rooted here
How we got here, where we go next
I had pretty much done with A Wayfarer’s Notes, actually, didn’t feel loyalty to it any more, only a certain nostalgia, as when you pass a house where you once lived. You see it now owned by someone else, and realize that the fabric of the building, the bricks and mortar, are not what made… Continue reading How we got here, where we go next
The Idea of Perfection
Perfection certainly doesn’t exist in the seen world. I conclude it must lie in the beholder's eye*. To see only perfection is surely a knack worth having. How we use words is our own business, for such is language; and how they help us understand one another is a great wonder. For some, perfection is… Continue reading The Idea of Perfection
How to quell terrorists
Disclaimer: Vincent does not know how to quell terrorists, religious or Communist, and has no opinion on any methods for doing so, past, present or future. My title is deliberately provocative and refers to methods used in 1954 in Malaya. When Burr Deming, in “Fair and Unbalanced” (see Pingback at bottom of comments below), says… Continue reading How to quell terrorists
Travelling on Foot
A Wayfarer’s Notes has changed its motto again. Farewell “not-doing”; back to Werner Herzog and his dictum: “The world reveals itself to those who travel on foot.” To be sure what he means, I check context. Patrick House: You once walked from Munich to Paris to visit your dying friend, and in your film “Wheel… Continue reading Travelling on Foot
“There is No Other Doer but He”
As journals, blogs are like life: open-ended. You finish one piece, you've no idea what the next will say, or whether there'll be a next one. After ending my last with a quote from Julian of Norwich, to round the thing off as I thought, I never expected to encounter her again so soon. A… Continue reading “There is No Other Doer but He”
Who am I?
Based on jotted ideas recorded while out walking on a winter's day December 20th, 2016 I've been thinking all week about hate, without feeling any hate myself. And also about slogans—how they brainwash us, not into believing what they want us to believe, but by reducing the subtlety of our ideas, preventing us from listening… Continue reading Who am I?
Talking the Walk
Transcribed from an ad-hoc recording made on December 14th between 12:30 and 13:50, while walking the above route. To hear the audio please click here. It will be played in a new window. There are problems with politics [referring to words rather than deeds]: when it’s diminished to binary options, with clichés replacing awareness when… Continue reading Talking the Walk
Four Weddings and a Funeral
We managed to make it to his last show yesterday, but not to any of his weddings. That’s him on the left when he came to ours. We didn’t know him well but his acts of kindness were unforgettable. Often it’s the way of things that you don’t find out what a person is till… Continue reading Four Weddings and a Funeral
Theology of the Body
It’s a month since I wrote Living in a Body. I’ve been wrestling with a sequel ever since. One was briefly published, and Bryan added some cogent comments, but it was no good, for myriad reasons. Let this post dispose of the matter, the better to move on. As for Not-Doing, whereby, according to Lao-Tzu,… Continue reading Theology of the Body
The Cycle of Imperfection
For months I’ve been working—which means mainly procrastinating—on a new book. Instead of me boring you with an essay on its structure, you can download a sample. Initially I titled it A Cycle of Days, reflecting the way that it reflects the changing months and seasons across the years. It’s been quite a slog. I… Continue reading The Cycle of Imperfection
England’s green and pleasant land
I’ve been agitated lately, it started a day or so before Polling Day. I was astonished to find how much this Referendum mattered to me. In the end I went to the favourite spot I’ve written about before (England Have My Bones) with camera & voice recorder; recalling as I went Ellie’s comment on a… Continue reading England’s green and pleasant land
My Life as Art
At the end of my last I promised to be a guinea-pig for the proposal that “we each and everyone be conscious artists, painting our existence on to the canvas of each new day”. What could it mean? Could it be played out practically? Natalie had a suggestion that “to be an artist in one’s… Continue reading My Life as Art
Life and Art
Writing is not easy. The trouble is, I’m too full of ideas. They come in bunches and I don’t know quite what to do with them. My monkey-mind thinks they should be cut into neat shapes and sewn into a quilt for posterity, so I spend hours trying to fit them together like a jigsaw… Continue reading Life and Art
England Have My Bones
I suppose we all have an idea of what constitutes real living. It’s not all those compromises we endure while we bridge the gap between yesterday and tomorrow. Real living is when we can say “this is it!” asking nothing from tomorrow at all. By this criterion, my real life has lately begun. The evening… Continue reading England Have My Bones
Parallel Lives
In my last I tried to convey something of the fascination of Cowes in a few shots all taken within a hundred yards of each other. But I’m hardly interested in picturesqueness for its own sake; only in what touches the soul. Moving to Cowes in 1954 was the beginning of a new life. Till… Continue reading Parallel Lives
Full Circle
. I've kept this post in for the comments only See "The Buddha and the Corpse" for a more interesting post
Here I am
On Sunday morning I walked to a local supermarket for fresh milk and bread. I felt a tangible perfection in the air. I want to analyse that phrase, extract meaning from it. There was something, it was tangible, I don’t suppose it was literally something in the air; but it made me feel I could… Continue reading Here I am
The bench on St. Michael’s Green
the bench where I sat Introduction The piece below dates from about 2000, and remains displayed on a website I first created when the cybersphere was young and the web-log had yet to be invented. It belongs to a time when I would drive my daughter to Beaconsfield on a Saturday morning, and sit on… Continue reading The bench on St. Michael’s Green
Inner & Outer Landscape
I decided to go for my usual loaf of bread by a circuitous route, over the Pastures; or rather, my feet took me that way while I readied myself to share what I had to say to Olympus, my companion of the road, expert at listening because he’s a state-of-the-art voice recorder. You’ll see from… Continue reading Inner & Outer Landscape
Not for Bread Alone
What goes on within us, in the complex immediacy of Now? I suggest this string of moments is all we have: the movie of our life, played live, in which we have no choice but to act; beyond which there is Nothing, though it’s our constant illusion to think otherwise. Joyce had a fictional shot… Continue reading Not for Bread Alone
Colloquy
I was moved by Ellie's recent comment: We engage in a colloquy reflecting one another’s light through the jewel of our own perception. In my last I spoke of the sound of waves breaking on the shore, and in subsequent comments the ebb and flow of tides. May this blog share the connectivity and outreach… Continue reading Colloquy
Borneo journal, January 2000
Took a boat out to the island of Manukan. Even riding in the boat was bliss, the prow banging down on the little waves as we sped along, lightly splashed with spray, hanging on to the rusty rails and the sun canopy supports whose welds were coming apart. One of those rare times when I… Continue reading Borneo journal, January 2000
Hasty Sketch Map
hasty sketch-map Dear S I am starting to form the impression that the “preoccupied and dreamy boy” contains the real you, and that what you write operates as a kind of mask through which to address the world. This “real you” has not yet evolved the capacity to interact with everything that the present moment… Continue reading Hasty Sketch Map
The printing-factory
I wonder why, out of the mass of all we forget, some inconsequential things stick in our minds. Perhaps they chime with our destiny, that elusive future no one can see till it arrives. And when it does, perhaps something from our rag-bag of memories may “ring a bell”, as if it had been foreshadowed.… Continue reading The printing-factory
Divine Economy?
Stepping out the door into sunshine or cloud, nothing on my mind, I marvel at what it is to be human. It’s like being in a strange land with no map. Here am I, familiar to myself. Slowly I change, but not as fast as the world around me. I'm more comfortable with things as… Continue reading Divine Economy?
Walking on air
There was a programme on BBC Radio 4 about the writing life. At this moment, it’s only available to “listen again” for another five days, so I’d better get on and publish this. In any event, I’ve made a transcript of the important bit. It starts at 22:26 and you can hear the full audio… Continue reading Walking on air
At sixteen
Here is the text of the essay I referred to in my last, as written in 1958. I don’t suppose it is intrinsically entertaining. To lighten it I’ve embedded some group photos in which my face may be seen, and an aerial shot of the place, Swainston Manor, which became my true home for a… Continue reading At sixteen
Acknowledgements
Masochistically, I’d planned to spend much time and ink writing a structured essay on literacy; covering texting, graffiti, tweeting, Facebook, Wikipedia, hyperlinking, spellcheck, online thesaurus, apostrophe confusion, grammatical mangling, metaphor insensitivity, the history of books from Gilgamesh to Kindle, the National Novel-Writing Month, the demise of the typewriter, my mania for fountain pens, registrar’s ink,… Continue reading Acknowledgements
The Book of Disquiet
Art consists in making others feel what we feel, in freeing them from themselves by offering them our own personality. From The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa, translated from the Portuguese by Richard Zenith; numbered section 260 Art frees us, illusorily, from the squalor of being. from section 270 There are certain books which… Continue reading The Book of Disquiet
Home, James!
All right, I willingly confess to being a technophobe, somewhere between moderate and severe, though I don’t know how they grade these things. I have no shame in the matter: what’s to hide, if they haven’t made it illegal? Not yet, so far as I know. But they marginalise it by stealth, and you cannot… Continue reading Home, James!
With a pinch of salt
I believe things because it pleases me to do so. I don’t require my belief to be anchored in verifiable truth. I’d sooner find allies, others who believe as I do. Doesn’t everyone behave like this, at the same time as denying it? Surely I am Everyman. Already in a few words I have placed… Continue reading With a pinch of salt
1976: the prizewinning Lawless prophecy
This post got discarded in a revisionistic mania a while ago. I vandalized my own writings on the basis that they needed to be made relevant and up-to-date. Sometimes amended for striking a pose unpleasing to my later self. So abhorrent is this notion now that I'm prioritising this work of restoring them to their… Continue reading 1976: the prizewinning Lawless prophecy
Prophetic words from 1976
In 1976 when I wrote the essay below for a competition, it was already possible to link computers by telephone line, but an international structure, eventually called the Internet, wasn’t established till 6 years later. Its use was limited to academics and technical types keeping in touch, till Tim Berners-Lee invented the World-Wide Web, nine… Continue reading Prophetic words from 1976
Scintillating Scotoma
In one sense it’s crazy to challenge and defy Plato, the Old Testament prophets, Jesus, scientists, one’s own doctor, and especially friends. Who am I to do this? A nobody. Which is a great strength. A somebody has something to defend. At the bottom of the heap, you are free. You have only yourself to… Continue reading Scintillating Scotoma
Museums and Women
Lately I seem to be getting more from literature than from life. A misleading observation, since reading is an act performed like any other, in life, as opposed to a dream. Again, this is misleading. Leisure reading fires the imagination as dreams do. By "life" we sometimes mean living, in the sense of an interactive… Continue reading Museums and Women
Affinity
Why do I write, if I can’t write any better? But what would become of me if I didn’t write what I can, however inferior it may be to what I am? In my ambitions, I am a plebeian, because I try to achieve; like someone in a dark room, I’m afraid to be silent.… Continue reading Affinity
Possessed by a god
Suppose I took it on myself to explain what a blog is, to someone who’d never encountered the idea. How would I go about it? Is there a common root to which all blogs are connected? I’m not thinking so much of topics, which are clearly as diverse as the authors themselves. But I wonder… Continue reading Possessed by a god
Not trying too hard
I left the car at The Fox and Hounds in Christmas Common, and made my way down Hollandridge Lane, which has never been more than a cart-track, but offers glorious vistas on a perfect spring day. Not a farmhouse in sight, not a fellow-wayfarer or dog-walker, not even a sheep till I reached Pishill, and… Continue reading Not trying too hard
On reading the Bible
When I read, I like to make an orgy of it, especially on a rainy winter’s day, curled up in my armchair in front of the glowing embers of a log fire. One book is not enough, I want to be surrounded by them, drawn into their world where time and space are condensed into… Continue reading On reading the Bible
On Christmas Eve
The Christmas spirit is a special thing. What is this “Peace on earth, goodwill to all men”? It’s tangible, that’s certain. I always feel that I receive it from others, never that I impart it to them. Or if I do emanate any of the glow, I feel it has been ignited first from a… Continue reading On Christmas Eve
Angels
A propos my newly-confirmed belief in the existence of angels, Ashok says in his new post: “He will not believe in anything easily unless he has very sound proof of it.” Au contraire, my dear Ashok. (I seem to be starting each sentence in French.) There is no need for proof when the experience is… Continue reading Angels
Death will win
This sky is my paper, asking me to write on its clear blue surface, perhaps in sepia ink with my new fountain-pen. But it doesn’t tell me what to write. I don’t care, for my pleasure is in the writing more than the content. Gazing at the blue sky, I welcome the little clouds. Uninterrupted… Continue reading Death will win
To Hayden, on pets
I think Hayden is my longest-serving, faithfullest blogging friend. But when she writes about Jake, my empathy isn’t immediate. I prefer a cool relationship with wild animals who go their own way at their own pace, and don’t beg from me with soulful eyes. Slugs spring to mind, or rats. I’ve written here several times… Continue reading To Hayden, on pets
Here I’ll stay
Two years ago, when I’d just moved into this house and couldn’t get online, I’d go to the internet café on the Desborough Road and compose a blog post in an hour. One post, “Being Ordinary”, is an example, perhaps the only one, and didn’t work out too badly. Where did that simple spontaneity go?… Continue reading Here I’ll stay
X: the unknown
Aerial View of San Francisco in the Fifties showing Coit Tower from avaloncm on flickr Consider the game of peekaboo. In England the mother says “Peep-bo!” when she reappears after hiding, and the baby gurgles in delight. Then she hides again, nothing elaborate, just ducks out of sight, and the baby starts to become anxious.… Continue reading X: the unknown
Metaphors
By kindly grace of destiny, I have a whole house to roam in, so there should be no need to go wayfaring outside, where it’s cold, especially as my leg hurts and I’m waiting for the postman, who’s due to deliver a package that won’t fit through the slot in the door. I can roam… Continue reading Metaphors
Valley Reverie
“Place does affect the way I write, maybe the tone and always has an influence. Does place matter in your work?” Poet Scot Young asked the question in his blog and I said yes. When I go walking, thoughts come to me, and they seem to resonate with the sky and the trees and the… Continue reading Valley Reverie
Running with Bulls
In hindsight, my last post sounds a little Quixotic: retired man goes on mysterious Quest, tries to attach importance to his ramblings — the ones on foot and the verbal ones, both. That’s a fair enough summary, especially the reference to “hindsight” — a theme I’ll develop further. On the walk I partly described in… Continue reading Running with Bulls
Intrinsic goodness
Back in the Sixties, I first came across some mysterious expressions from the other side of the Atlantic. I was working for a British company whose main rival was IBM. Both companies had built up a customer base selling punched-card equipment based on the nineteenth-century inventions of Herman Hollerith and his one-time colleague James Powers.… Continue reading Intrinsic goodness
Cherishing the past
Many are they who suppose a blog---such a today thing!---to be ephemeral (“beginning and ending in a day”) in its subject-matter and interest to others. Why should it be so? I celebrate the past, like this stately galleon on the ocean of time, its stern riding proud and high, its prow dipping into the billows… Continue reading Cherishing the past
Blazing a trail
In these pieces I have a consistent aim, like a would-be acrobat endlessly repeating the same manoeuvre, aiming at perfect execution, to demonstrate something to the audience, using his entire body and soul in the demonstration, so that the slightest distraction such as a thought or an itch somewhere on his skin would affect the… Continue reading Blazing a trail
Accompaniment
. . . We need to find the deepest reason for our emotions. The clue came in something delivered through my letterbox yesterday: a “journal for all women interested in spirituality, theology, ministry and liturgy”. It’s not my normal reading, but they sent me a complimentary copy in return for publishing one of my recent… Continue reading Accompaniment
Rainy day pilgrimage
Undissuaded by heavy rain, and having the day free, I hankered for a bus ride, distance no object. What could be more in accord with my temperament than a pilgrimage? In harmony with the Zen poet Basho, author of The Narrow Road to the Deep North. My destination this morning was “a small café in… Continue reading Rainy day pilgrimage
Purpose
Outside the supermarket a three-year-old boy was expressing his distress in voice and reddened face. Solicitous, his mother bent down to him. No doubt he had wanted something in the shop and been denied it. He looked like me at that age and in a flash I recalled how I used to behave: a lot… Continue reading Purpose
Breakfast Rant
One of the characters in The Secret Agent is Michaelis, the “ticket-of-leave apostle”. Pitifully obese, he finds it difficult to communicate with others having spent his twenty years in jail (judged guilty by association with some terrorist atrocity) developing his own anti-capitalist philosophy. So now he continues his solitude in a cottage provided by a… Continue reading Breakfast Rant
Root and Flower
I am drawn to the root of my existence, but it's hidden. If I dig it up to try and take a look, the plant will be disturbed. But then there is the possibility of writing, which is why I'm doing this now. The flower is the root's expression, its way of interacting with the… Continue reading Root and Flower
a wayfarer’s notes 