Art

A Dream

I dreamt of autumn in the window’s twilight, And you, a tipsy jesters’ throng amidst. ‘ And like a falcon,…

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In Praise of Idleness

LiKE most of my generation, I was brought up on the saying “Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands…

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Farewell…For Now

Remember: Matter. How tiny your share of it. Time. How brief and fleeting your allotment of it. Fate. How small…

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Memory is a river that always flows backwards

We are afraid that life will perish while we imagine, we want to live a real day, to get what…

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