All minds are glass.All fragile and so clearThat all we hide residesOutside defencesAnd creates our fear. The well hid thoughtsAre hidden from ourselves.Those are the onesWe should care most about. Continue reading All minds are glass
Reading in translation, like hearing a story second-hand, is always a precarious business. So many thorns to impale yourself on. Not the least of which is the trust we place in the translator to bring us not only the author’s … Continue reading The death of love, or not
At the End of the Day 