It was just a matter of time – we all knew that. But that doesn’t help She was old – very old, even. But that doesn’t help She said she was ready to go – life, as she saw it, was done. But that doesn’t help The phone call that jerked us awake yesterday was […]
In the not so distant past, All Hallows was the day when the graves of our dead were visited. Come evening, the graveyards would be alive with the flickering light of candles, a night of light in the otherwise so permanent dark of the dead. Headstones were eerily lit from below by the candles left
A little house in delft porcelain – a reminiscence Read More »
I don’t know about you, but personally, I have a lukewarm relationship with amphibians – well, reptiles in general. Too right, the men among you may mutter, thinking about Eve and the wily serpent. Not that I think my antipathy vis-a-vis snakes has anything to do with the events in Eden, but rarely do I
Admit it. Of course you’ve fantasized about travelling through time. What? Is that a “no”? Can’t hear you honey, so I’m going to assume all of you, dear people, are nodding. Okay, so most of you smile somewhat at all this time travelling stuff, being quite content to remain exactly where you are – well,
Some days ago, I posted about pretty Aurora and her lover, Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony and king of Poland. As some of you may recall, Augustus and Aurora parted way some time after the birth of their son, and as Aurora was a savvy lady, she made it easy for Augustus to leave
This post is about a man who wanted to become a medicine man – or at least that’s how I understand it, based on the little snippets of info I’ve gathered. Being blessed with a rich imagination, the huge blank spots not covered by what I’ve read have been filled in by yours truly. Young
Today, I thought I’d treat you to a short story – dedicated to Erin Davies – detailing the sad fates of Lieutenant Sixten Sparre and his paramour, tightrope dancer Elvira Madigan. The below takes place in July of 1889, in Denmark. It is a perfect summer day…. He took her by the hand when they left
One last time – of impossible love and its consequences Read More »
Imagine that you are the flame of a candle, an oblong of orange heat that spreads light and comfort in a dark world. Well, I don’t know about you, but I like trying to spread warmth and comfort, keeping that little flame bright and chirpy. Now and then, though, a gust of wind blows you
It’s sort of strange; whenever I reach a publication day, I’m afflicted by a bout of melancholia, sort of similar to that a mother feels when she watches her children leave home. Proud because the kids have grown into young, responsible adults, sad because suddenly baby sets out on its own – carving its own
When I was a child, I dreamt of becoming either a medieval knight or a veterinary. One dream fell flat on its face due to having been born in the wrong time and of the wrong gender, the other burst apart when I realised I faint at the sight of blood. Not a good thing