« Black | Main | A Quiet Spot in the Woods »

July 28, 2013


We Anglos couldn't do the first haiku; chips for us are crisps. The word incorporates (perhaps suggests) a diminuendo, the worrying thought that the line is incomplete even though it isn't. Chips chops it off, containing the poetry. I should never stray into territories I wot not of.

I ache vicariously for your back. Dearly beloved VR has ached now for decades and I know this is all I can do. But I have a mission and you know what it is. I want to read that book. Will pay to do so even though the transatlantic pound/dollar exchange rate rapaciously equates the two forms of currency. It is my job to nag. Consider yourself nagged.

The comments to this entry are closed.

My Photo

Who was Cassandra?

  • In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well, you know what happened.