First published on July 10th, '14 On a perfect day I felt it was time to give my musings some fresh air. So I went wayfaring, to places just over the horizon seen from my study window. Walk a mile and you reach two villages, separated by common land. It’s an easy stroll or horseback… Continue reading The Middle of Nowhere
Category: essays
Soliloquy
First published 21st July 2017 Along Desborough Road, 20 minutes' walk from the town centre: The Step In Café has a "no loitering" sign. Loiterers throng the frontage of Mo'Fro Barbers & Coral Betting Shop—a favourite spot for Afro-Caribbeans and their admiring hangers-on. At far right is Cool Runnings, where they sell Jamaican food Idle… Continue reading Soliloquy
Lucid Waking
first published on 15th March 2017 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… Continue reading Lucid Waking
Life springs forth unstoppably
It's the sixteenth day of my stay in Stoke Mandeville Hospital, world-famous for its treatment of spinal injuries and midwife to the Paraplegic Games, now incorporated into the Olympics.. In the early morning, after the need of nursing help after an embarrassing incident and I was clean and fresh again, I looked online for views… Continue reading Life springs forth unstoppably
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
Sailing into WebSpace
A while ago I created this website. It was before the days of blogs. I used some free kind of web design software. It was harder to use than blogger or WordPress, or so it seemed at the time, but provided some lovely backgrounds. The site is ian.mulder.clara.net. You can view it from any browser,… Continue reading Sailing into WebSpace
What’s Wrong with the World?
first published on August 2nd, 2006, restored from a backup Today I am following on from my previous post and the comments made by Darius and Rama. They felt that it did not really matter what someone believes. Perhaps they take the view that there is some inner Truth ready to be found which will… Continue reading What’s Wrong with the World?
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
Face-to-Face
The ghost of Christine Keeler is returning to public view, in the form of a TV series now on BBC, and a forthcoming exhibition in London, which I heard about through Natalie D'Arbeloff's blog, in which she says Christine Keeler was, in that story, simultaneously absolutely powerless and absolutely powerful. She was neither victim nor… Continue reading Face-to-Face
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 negative… 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
Brexit dream 4
I was going to call this “The Vision of Perfection”, I’ll try and explain later. But then I jotted down the outline of a confused dream I’d just woken from. An interpretation slowly took form. To dream it at all seemed exhausting. There was a great deal of fruitless effort was being made, seven nights… Continue reading Brexit Dream 4
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
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 . . .
Angels, Chaos, Truth
The last two pieces posted here have left important questions unanswered: What can we really know? What kind of consequences may follow inaccurate assumptions? Do we have any chance of explaining the unexplained, and should we even bother? Is there a wisdom we can call upon, or allow to reach us, which we can use… Continue reading Angels, Chaos, Truth
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
Here in October
From Bryan White Greetings! Summer has ended here in Phoenix, and I have to say, the weather has been beautiful. It's been cool and pleasant enough to open the windows -- and it's always the sweetest air that comes through open windows. We had a genuine rainy day (a couple of them actually) last week,… Continue reading Here in October
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
The legend of honey
We find ourselves drawn to joy, truth, harmony, security, beauty, thrills, fulfilment, meaning, ecstasy. We don’t want to be stuck in some pointless, shitty situation. Such is our yearning for the pure wild honey of imagination, that we’re willing to risk being stung as we trace the sweet comb to some nest high up in… Continue reading The legend of honey
Words and pictures
In my last I mentioned “a post in preparation, called ‘Just Words’, but it may take several days, or forever.” All very well but there is real life to be lived, can’t leave this hanging & festering like a debt with mounting interest due. “Just words” has been consigned to the great junkyard of unwritten… Continue reading Words and pictures
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
When love conquers fear
While writing in my last about “Secret Strength” I had a strong desire to talk about wartime Holland and its sufferings under Nazi occupation. In particular I wanted to share an aria on YouTube, beautiful on its own account but even more moving for this little piece of history: When the Netherlands were liberated in… Continue reading When love conquers fear
That which is unchosen
On Monday morning I passed through the little footpath that leads to the children’s playground at the back of our house. It’s my shortcut to everywhere. Litter-pickers don’t work at the weekend, nor do those with fresh paypackets and the urge to celebrate with their friends on beer and fast food, who gather where they… Continue reading That which is unchosen
Many Are the Ways
It’s been a busy few weeks, and a kind of milestone. K’s retirement after 42 years’ continuous employment has been finalized; and we’ve had a new kitchen installed. These two events seem to have balanced the scales of Destiny. For on the one hand, we’re no longer tethered to this unique spot on the globe’s… Continue reading Many Are the Ways
The Unnamed Road
I walked around The Pastures, a hillside north of our house, musing as follows. "The earth is poised and serene, showing through its balanced complexities how intelligently creative it is. Human beings are restless. Prejudice is inborn and entirely natural, though aspects of it are ugly. It is beneficial for us to live in accordance… Continue reading The Unnamed Road
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
“God keep my soul and England have my bones.”—T. H. White, after Shakespeare 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… Continue reading England Have My Bones
What was and might yet be
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 What was and might yet be
Into the Zone: a trip
" /> The Precinct looking west Trip, n(1): 3. A short voyage or journey; a ‘run’. Apparently originally a sailor’s term, but very soon extended to a journey on land. 5. slang (orig. U.S.) a. A hallucinatory experience induced by a drug, esp. LSD. I’ve learned that following others isn’t my way. Nor do I… Continue reading Into the Zone: a trip
Full Circle
My previous post started with a trip to buy milk from a supermarket, and the sense of a “tangible perfection”. I don’t know what triggers these things, but the next time I went to buy milk something else worth the telling occurred. This time it was more of a thought, a realization, an inner voice… Continue reading Full Circle
Here I am
It took a while to find a spot on a nearby hill for a photo showing where I live and what my house looks like. A blossoming tree obscures it but I've highlighted the approximate location. On Sunday morning I walked to a local supermarket for fresh milk and bread. I felt a tangible perfection… Continue reading Here I am
Jua Kali
It’s spring and that creates a fruitful restlessness in me, a primitive, profound and timely desire to die to my old self and be resurrected. It’s too inward, physical, dynamic and inchoate to be directly described, so I am left speechless. It doesn’t make sense to call it writer’s block, for that would imply the… Continue reading Jua Kali
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
On being an animal
What I really wanted to say in my last was: “I am an animal”. The intended piece got hijacked by its own introduction, if you can believe that. “I am an animal” sounds like an oxymoron, requires an explanation before you can make sense of it. “I am . . .” implies awareness. “Animal” implies… Continue reading On being an animal
The Human Condition
To be alive is such a blessing that we rarely find ourselves able to grasp it. To feel this blessing in the moment is the most precious thing I know. Briefly I wondered if it makes grammatical sense to say “It’s a blessing to be alive,” for we are not in a position to compare… Continue reading The Human Condition
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: Click to download a copy of the book 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.… 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
The Sun-dial factory
I’ve written several times about the factory across from our bedroom and how the morning sun progressively reaches down from the tips of its roof. When you wake and look out, it gives you an idea of what time it is, taking the season into account. On many nights and days too, I see the… Continue reading The Sun-dial 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
With contemporaries: I’m at far right 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… 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!
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
Angst and Angels
Abstract ideas are all very well but unless you can feel them in your body or soul, you have no way of knowing if they are real. They might be the bastard children of human intellect mating with heaven-knows-what. So when Raymond proposed that existential angst is a universal experience, it left me unmoved. I… Continue reading Angst and Angels
Aylesbury Walkabout
I’m on a section of the “Round Aylesbury Walk”. If you go clockwise, the town is on your right and level countryside is on your left. I talk to myself as I go, into this digital recorder (edited below). Suppose everything is just as it should be, already? Suppose everything goes on being just right,… Continue reading Aylesbury Walkabout
On Pets
In June 2020 I bought a Lamy pen. In December, it broke. You can use ink cartridges but I preferred the “converter”, in which you can fill it from the ink bottle, like pens from the Fifties and earlier. I wrote up the story in a customer review for Amazon. Recently, I mislaid this beloved… Continue reading 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
a wayfarer’s notes 