Originally published 9 years ago. Much has changed since then, including my writing style, no longer so quaint or twee, I hope. Why take such pains concealing the fact that Karleen and I live in High Wycombe, Bucks? (there's another High Wycombe in Perth, Australia—the town where I was born). I shall take you on… Continue reading Around the neighbourhood
Category: home
The moment
Previously published on 18th April, 2011 I went out to the backyard on Sunday morning. Purpose: to hang washing out on the line. The sky above was blue. There are trees beyond the fence, growing in the children’s playground, and on one of them I saw a little bird, insistently repeating the same note: “Tweet;… Continue reading The moment
Neon or candle light
This is what happened. I'd been soundly asleep till awakened by "someone" coughing, about 1.30 this morning. I went downstairs for a bit, including a "midnight snack" as is my wont, and when I got back the tealight had gone out. We use two or three in the night, it saves turning on my lamp… Continue reading Neon or candle light
Mother’s Day Visit
In England, Mother's Day was on Friday March 19th, a celebration for three Jamaican mothers who live in England. We're not in a position to visit them in South-East London, as we don't have a car any more. What with this and that, we weren't able to meet up till last Saturday 20th May. We… Continue reading Mother’s Day Visit
Living in High Wycombe
Wycombe is a great place to live if you don't drive. No traffic jams or parking problems. If you live in Abercromby Road, for example, it's a short walk along Desborough Road to the town centre, with its Eden shopping Mall, library, Hospital. If you are disabled, there are many facilities, including https://www.shopmobilityhighwycombe.co.uk/ You'll pass… Continue reading Living in High Wycombe
Revelations
Got out of bed this morning telling myself there's a close connection between sex and God. On reflection, love has to be in the equation: Love + sex = God This is surely why religion smiles on marriage but not one-night stands. As for homosexual relations, every religion so far as I know has frowned… Continue reading Revelations
How this blog got its URL
When this blog started in 2015, taking over from my former blogspot address, I used the name of singer Tabu Ley Rochereau, who often performed with Franco Luambo's TPOK Jazz Band. This had been a favourite of mine since I first discovered African music through some tracks copied on to a cassette by a local… Continue reading How this blog got its URL
Valley Creatures
Days pass. Not much wayfaring and not much writing. The two are connected. I had promised to dedicate a post to Lady in Red, who writes “I love it when you describe the places you walk through, bringing it alive for those of us who can only imagine both the countryside and the industrial areas… Continue reading Valley Creatures
High Wycombe has a Monopoly
from our local newspaper, the Bucks Free Press. I've corrected its numerous typos, excused by the fact that today is its publishing day, and Isabella Perrin was clearly rushed to get the copy ready in time High Wycombe MONOPOLY board release date and locations announced 15th August by Isabella Perrin , @IsabellaHPerrin Senior Digital Journalist… Continue reading High Wycombe has a Monopoly
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
There’s a Grand Scheme of Things
Is there a grand scheme of things? Yes, this is something I do believe. As to what it is, I cannot directly say: only circumstantially, in reference to what we can see with our own eyes. As I said in my last, politics and public discourse are toxic these days. After hearing what passes as… Continue reading There’s a Grand Scheme of Things
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
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
Clouds and simple things . . .
I like clouds, trees and grass. They help reconnect with my primitive self, which has no care for fashion, technology or politics. So we went to Saunderton Lee, where I photographed flat-bottomed clouds, the sort you get on a day of sunshine and rain, and which first struck me as worthy of note one August… Continue reading Clouds and simple things . . .
Julian of Norwich
. . . all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. The Web is riddled with orphaned "quotes": mangled versions of what someone—the author or one of his characters—may or may not have said. We use them for our own purposes, with no regard for the… Continue reading Julian of Norwich
Tethered to a Robo-goat
the privacy curtains in all the local hospitals have a landscape of red kites soaring above the Chilterns, with venerable buildings such as Church of St Lawrence with its Golden Ball visible for miles on a hill in West Wycombe, and the Guildhall in the High Street pastel done from life. I climbed up the… Continue reading Tethered to a Robo-goat
Perhaps everything fits together
Things fit together, said I. That’s what they are supposed to do, said Karleen. If only we have faith, said I—in the right things, of course. We were having our morning tea in bed while doing the cryptic crossword, where things always fit together, if you puzzle over them enough. The clues fit the answers… Continue reading Perhaps everything fits together
Kindness (audio podcast)
click to to access the podcast transcript … I don’t know why, but the pain and the weariness started first thing Sunday morning, February 5th and here it is today, on the 23rd. I don’t even know what. At first, when I was told it was diverticulitis, I took the antibiotic and thought it was… Continue reading Kindness (audio podcast)
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?
Eternal life on the Desborough Road
After the questionnaire, and further Skype-messaging with the lad (a good way to preserve the minutes of our meetings), it was time to meet Karleen for lunch in the pub. As usual on a Friday, I took along the 2-wheel trolley (“cart” in American). Karleen had already paid for our breadfruit, mangoes, yams & plantains… Continue reading Eternal life on the Desborough Road
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
Black Books
In reality I don’t have a front garden, just a concreted area big enough to hold four bins, for the separated recyclables, and a few plant pots. It also serves to provide a seven-foot gap between our front door and the sidewalk. There’s no separation from our neighbours’ concreted front area, and their front door… Continue reading Black Books
Figures in a landscape
I was walking along Desborough Road this morning, past the little shops and into town. You see every kind of person, it seems, from anywhere on earth. Something struck me about one man, the way he glanced at me as I passed. It seemed to say “My soul soars, but here I am stuck with… Continue reading Figures in a landscape
Brexit Dream 1
Just woke up. Before it fades to oblivion must write down my dream, about our great national Referendum, due in a few days’ time. Shall the UK stay in the EU or leave it? I’m as strong for leaving the European Union as I was strong for Scotland to stay in the United Kingdom, when… Continue reading Brexit Dream 1
That which is unchosen
On Monday morning I passed through the alleyway that leads to the children’s playground at the back of our house. It’s my shortcut to everywhere. There are “No Dogs” signs but dogs can’t read and their owners don’t care. Emerging from the shortcut into the playground I heard the single word “Unchosen”, as if whispered… Continue reading That which is unchosen
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
Jua Kali
Jua Kali is Swahili for 'the hot sun' referring to artisans and vendors who work outside. On our dining room wall we've hung a batik picture of Kikuyu tribesmen, bought from an ethnic shop in Edinburgh, like the other things displayed in these photos It’s spring here, and that creates a fruitful restlessness in me,… Continue reading Jua Kali
Rebuilding from within
By day, my bedroom window is transformed into a viewing platform to watch the renascence of my Sun-dial Factory across the road. On April 29th 2013, I wrote a piece beginning: I see things as imbued with meaning, like fragments written in a foreign language. Sometimes I can decipher them; sometimes even put them in… Continue reading Rebuilding from within
A comatose fridge, and whatever’s meant to be
The fridge has been in a coma for three weeks. We’ve discovered there’s no hope of a cure. The freezer works normally, but the mechanism which controls the refrigerator compartment has failed. There’s only one moving part: the little door which lets cold air flow to the refrigeration compartment when the thermistor tells it to.… Continue reading A comatose fridge, and whatever’s meant to be
The magic fence
It’s been raining every day for weeks. Catching a cold gave me an additional reason to stay indoors, but the other morning, in the bright lull after a heavy downpour, I ventured out for a couple of errands, taking the usual shortcut to the shops on Ledborough Road, through the derelict school yard and the… Continue reading The magic fence
Night navigation
It was an eventful day, not without its petty annoyances, but our house-guests were happy, that’s the main thing, and enjoyed a merry evening. I was exhausted and as soon as politely possible retired upstairs. My dreams were scantily populated, and their spaces were wide. I was in a tall office building, looking for the… Continue reading Night navigation
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!
Sunday morning, late February
The morning is sunny and warm in the backyard. A noisy bee rejoices among the crocuses. Their purple petals open wide, greedy for the sun’s rays, exposing brilliant orange pollen and their kinship with crocus sativa, source of the dye saffron. More shyly than the extrovert bee, a delicate fly hovers silently just above the… Continue reading Sunday morning, late February
Infinite are the depths
Some days are special gifts but it takes something else, some extra gift to be able to share them. When I say days, I mean moments within days. And when I say special, I refer to some magic visible only to the inner eye. A day is a torrent of moments which pass us by,… Continue reading Infinite are the depths
Project
Poor blog! Your master has neglected you: deliberately. And taken a vow also to write briefly and more or less spontaneously, as opposed to elaborate literary essays: the better to do other things elsewhere—to be elaborate in a more spacious (i.e. book) format, conducted with an excellent collaborator: sometimes sparring partner, sometimes antagonist. It’s going… Continue reading Project
Perspectives and Remembrance
The emblem of this blog is a weathervane with a gilded Centaur, standing above a cupola on top of the 18th century Guildhall, in the market square of High Wycombe, built where two main valleys cross. There are smaller valleys too. Wherever thou goest, thou canst lift up thine eyes unto the hills, like the… Continue reading Perspectives and Remembrance
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
The Chilterns
This is specially for Ashok, for comparison of the Chilterns with his real hills at Nainital. Here, the height above sea-level is never more than 200 metres. These vistas are all within walking distance of my house, which is near the middle of town, in the factory district. St Lawrence’s Church & Dashwood Mausoleum, photographed… Continue reading The Chilterns
Let them be
I’ve been interested in the conversations of birds since a day in March 1971, in the churchyard of Hinderwell, a village in North Yorkshire. I had chewed a small square of wallpaper, which had been soaked in LSD. I learned the language of the rooks, almost. But that is a story for another day. This… Continue reading Let them be
Everything but the Kitchen Sink
I do feel the urge to philosophize, if only the Muse will allow. She says I must not try the patience of my readers. Oh well, here goes, I’ll start with a sweeping generalisation: “Religion is about perfection, while science and engineering are about trial and error.” Before you have the chance to say “I… Continue reading Everything but the Kitchen Sink
Wayfaring Again
This is the day I become clear about the purpose of my purposeless journey. Now the task is to express clearly what I see clearly. My path leads more to the past than the future, for “the past is my treasure” as an archaeologist might say. I heard the scraping shovel from behind a hoarding… Continue reading Wayfaring Again
Spring
To spare the young man’s blushes I shall abbreviate his name to A—. He’s my nephew by marriage, nearly 15, and goes to a good school. So I was asking him about that, and he told me his vocabulary had become somewhat depleted. He didn’t use the word “depleted” of course. He explained that in… Continue reading Spring
Out of the Limelight
After my last post, I’ve been drawn to philosophical speculation. How can we talk of one world, except in given contexts, such as world cocoa prices? How can you ask whether there is hope for the world? I would answer, “Whose world are you talking about?” Each of us sees a different world of experience;… Continue reading Out of the Limelight
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
Order
Odour, as complained of in my post Unseen Foe, has been replaced by order, after months of effort. The company responsible for sewerage has written a pleasant letter: “As you are aware our Engineer [—] has visited the site and carried out investigations. Our conclusion is that this is a private issue. Our sewers have… Continue reading Order
Backyard
It’s tempting with a digital camera to think that a picture is worth a thousand words, so you can just snap something and stick it in a blog, as if it had the power to capture the feeling which made you take the picture. But the camera’s just a soulless eye that delivers aspects of… Continue reading Backyard
Up through the floorboards
For weeks, probably months, I’ve been bothered by a fugitive stench, hanging in the air at various places, various times, in the kitchen and dining room, not always the same smell. Every mammal knows not to foul its own nest and the sense of outrage at any fouling by others must be etched deep into… Continue reading Up through the floorboards
Nature’s profusion
The great thing about growing plants—flowers, fruit or vegetables— is that when you grow them close together, or allow random seeds to grow, they arrange themselves. They make accommodation with one another to catch the sun, and achieve a tumbling profusion, such as we may find in wild or semi-wild places. As for my backyard,… Continue reading Nature’s profusion
Risk assessment
Restored on 6th September 2024. Looking in a shoebox of old software packages on CD I discovered this, meaning I'm now able to use my old Access applications again, including one I designed to facilitate an organization to assess its risks and apply for ISO 9001 certification, for which I was in theory a licensed… Continue reading Risk assessment
Dawn song
At four minutes past four a lone blackbird on a chimneypot opposite my house starts his song, tentative but persistent. The sky is lightening, he tells the world. This is no time to stay unconscious. Because he speaks in blackbird language, I don’t really know the meaning of his telling, but only guess that his… Continue reading Dawn song
The Muse is a Jealous Mistress
I hold the art of writing in too high regard to dare call myself writer. I think I shall change my Profile: occupation Gentleman. Writing, like any pastime fit for this kind of person and the female equivalent, is an arena of infinite striving, especially when, as in my case, its only object is to… Continue reading The Muse is a Jealous Mistress
Parallel Paths
I’ve been meaning to write more about happiness, but the topic is elusive to say the least and it seems there has not been enough time. I wasn’t sure until yesterday what this meant (what interval of unbroken time would be enough?), but this morning, rising at 4.30 in the morning I know even more… Continue reading Parallel Paths
Pandora’s Box
I argued with Charles Bergeman a while ago on the topic of happiness: whether, for example, a five-year-old child could have said to its teacher something like: “I don’t want to be anything when I grow up, I just want to be happy.” I said it didn’t ring true and then I promised to write… Continue reading Pandora’s Box
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
Crime and Punishment
It’s not dawn yet, but I’ve turned on the heating and lit a candle. Through this study window that keeps a secret eye on the wider world, I see in the street's yellow lamplight the snowflakes falling. I’ve just finished the last few pages of Crime and Punishment, illuminated at the very last by redemption… Continue reading Crime and Punishment
The persistence of selfhood
“You don’t know what you think until you speak.” Which is why I blog. And then there are the extempore comments scattered across cyberspace, wanton and unremembered: pigeons loosed but never coming home to roost for they are not of the homing variety. Or they are seeds broadcast, which engender new life in many a… Continue reading The persistence of selfhood
Act of Penance
Restoring this post from perpetual-lab.blogspot.com on September20th, 2025,I laugh at what I wrote then I have an urge to penance. It is not to punish myself for any particular sin, but to follow an inbuilt impulse towards sackcloth and ashes, that the Bible refers to so many times; as if depriving oneself of physical comfort… Continue reading Act of Penance
Don’t try this at home
I nearly swallowed some extra strong bleach. I can tell you how it happened, but I don’t know how it could happen. Perhaps I unwittingly broke a law of physics. You can’t do that? Tell me what law says you can’t break a law of physics! I don’t know of a law of Nature that… Continue reading Don’t try this at home
Then and Now
Days pass. Not much wayfaring and not much writing. The two are connected. I had promised to dedicate a post to Lady in Red, who writes “I love it when you describe the places you walk through, bringing it alive for those of us who can only imagine both the countryside and the industrial areas… Continue reading Then and Now
Angels disguised as bandits
I passed through the children’s playground. From where I live it’s a pedestrian shortcut into town. Two boys were there, who looked about 8, one with a bandanna tied around his face, like a masked bandit holding up a Wells Fargo coach. At his age I must have done the same. They asked me for… Continue reading Angels disguised as bandits
Memory’s Carillon
I don’t know if there is anyone, even myself, who can quite grasp what I’m getting at here. Whatever “here” means. We live over the street and sleep with the window wide open. The street is small and crowded, each house 12 foot wide and joined to the next. At night it’s utterly silent. No… Continue reading Memory’s Carillon
Resuming normality
The night is full of mysteries. They haunt us when we can't sleep, and there's no one to share them with. That's what prompts me to write here. Meanwhile dawn is coming, sheds light on this side of Earth. The mysteries aren't illuminated, they merely vanish. Dawn blushes red now, over yonder hill. I draw… Continue reading Resuming normality
Bonfire of the vanities
Since this photo, the fire’s gone out after consuming the fence and denuding finally gone out after consuming the adjacent fence and half of the overhanging tree. In the scale of things, gratitude is now in order My next-door neighbour, bottom left in the pic, had complained to the Council about the state of his… Continue reading Bonfire of the vanities
In the Industrial Valley
rescued from archive.com on Saturday September 20th 2025 I shall take you on a guided tour of my part of town. We are in the valley bottom, where the factories were built at the end of the nineteenth century. I don't know what was there before. I haven't seen any houses older than 1872. This… Continue reading In the Industrial Valley
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
The Gift Horse
Why do I have to be so like my grandfather? He bought a cheap Ford in 1935 and didn’t give it up, just replaced parts as necessary, till his younger daughter in 1967 (my mother's sister Peggy) told him time was up. Then he drove her VW Beetle till, in his late eighties, he managed… Continue reading The Gift Horse
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
Cherry tree
I’ve been wanting to dedicate a whole post to my cherry tree but couldn’t justify it. When commenting on other people’s blogs, I have fewer inhibitions, as in this, to Michael Peverett, re his post “Prunus continued”: . . . I was interested in your prunus pictures because I bought a small fruiting cherry tree… Continue reading Cherry tree
Fresh air
The barrenness of these pages lately means doesn’t mean I’ve not been thinking of offering something to my reader. On the contrary. Though afflicted by a species of writer’s block, I’m not bereft of thoughts and inspirations, and each day scribble them: in Word, on voice recorder, in the black notebook, and failing those, they… Continue reading Fresh air
Stories of animal sagacity
As a child I read Stories of Animal Sagacity, a set of Victorian anecdotes by William Henry Giles Kingston. I didn’t remember his name of course: the World-Wide Web has the full text in facsimile and OCR transcription, with the illustrations reproduced too. Sagacity is a lovely word: it was many years till I came… Continue reading Stories of animal sagacity
Something of the Night
To one who follows his nose as a general principle of life, especially to seek inspiration, it matters when and where the ideas come. Most of the pieces in this blog have been conceived under the sky, preferably walking. “Sit as little as possible; credit no thought not born in the open air and while… Continue reading Something of the Night
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
The constant spring
Sunday morning: I’ve taken my writing-book out to the backyard, where I can sit on this bench and be warmed like a lizard for the first time this year. Surely Spring has arrived! The yard is so tiny, the fences so high, that in winter the sun never reaches the ground: the best it can… Continue reading The constant spring
Slug life
A slug theme has been slithering through my last two posts, leaving the question hanging whether my blocking of cracks in the floor would disturb the migration habits of this humble gastropod. Since I had additionally panelled that corner of the kitchen, fitting the pieces closely, except for one part of the plinth which will… Continue reading Slug life
As a novice
I live in the poorest quarter of town*, sandwiched between factories, some derelict and some still in use like the one directly across the road. Many of the Pakistani owners of houses like mine have let rooms to migrant workers: hundreds of them are engaged on building a new shopping/leisure complex in town. † Their… Continue reading As a novice
Fevered interlude
When you have a virus---cold or flu---it comes and goes in waves, and you don’t know what to do with yourself. I woke in the night, thinking about how to continue my memoirs. There’s plenty left in the pipeline. But after age 21 and before 59, there’s a waste land: not an arid desert, but… Continue reading Fevered interlude
Problem Solved
from our backyard, facing west I’ve solved the problem that has baffled mankind through the ages. It’s taken me many years and I thought it might take as many years again to explain it to the world, to help others come to the same realization that I have reached single-handed about the true nature of… Continue reading Problem Solved
Angel story
This morning I couldn’t park in my own or adjoining streets, so I drove to where I used to live, five minutes’ walk away. I steered into a space next to a red car. The driver got out and came across to speak. I thought he might challenge my right to be there. Signs warn… Continue reading Angel story
The Ventilator Cowl
I lay in a morning bath recalling Mid-December last year, when I used to go wayfaring in stout boots, regardless of the chilly weather and leaden skies: all senses alert like my ancestors the prehistoric hunters. From Gore Hill, I’d look down on Amersham as if I had stumbled on civilization for the first time,… Continue reading The Ventilator Cowl
Clothesline
I might have conveyed the impression in my last that the world has to be put right in order to provide the conditions in which we can live happily. I really think the opposite: that the world has never been better, and never worse, than it is now. We can do our little best to… Continue reading Clothesline
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
Angelic omens
At 8am I heard the refuse collection lorry. I dashed out, for I hadn’t wheeled out a bin to prepare for its arrival. One of the men saw my plight and kindly came back to empty it, so that was pleasing, till I discovered I had locked myself out: no mobile phone, no money, no… Continue reading Angelic omens
Cool for Cats
" /> There’s a heavy frost this morning, with little diamonds catching the sun. I took pity on the black cat that makes eyes at me every day as it sits on the fence and looks in. It is very grateful, wandering everywhere exploring, delighted to be in the warm. Someone feeds it but it… Continue reading Cool for Cats
Ecstasy and unreason
The single-minded pursuit of ecstasy — that’s what my life is for. Perhaps this is not for everybody, but it’s the only thing that works for me and I’m glad I realised it whilst I still have time. I’ll be resuming my memoirs soon, when things (never mind what) are straightened out a little. The… Continue reading Ecstasy and unreason
a wayfarer’s notes 