Books

Moving 2018

I wander through the rooms as if I were a ghost choosing this and that. What to take, what to leave what I will need, what holds meaning. But to me alone and not to those who follow. A book – read yesterday to read perhaps tomorrow. A book – the small child kept throughoutContinue reading “Moving 2018”

Books

The more I look at the books crowding my shelves, the more I think of them as books spawning other books, endlessly. Like the zebra clams, where one clam can propagate thousands. One book, one word, can lead to countless other words, countless other books, which in turn multiply. So I look at you, myContinue reading “Books”

ANOTHER DAY – SOLITUDE – WINNIE THE POOH – TRANSLATION

Another day. Another hot hot day. Shall I seek refuge with my friends? Shall I invite them to a tea party? And who is to be invited? Perhaps nothing that requires mental strain – it’s just too hot. There’s The Little Prince with its many hidden meanings. Did you, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry., mean this storyContinue reading “ANOTHER DAY – SOLITUDE – WINNIE THE POOH – TRANSLATION”

Poetry

My oldest most faithful friend. Oh dear. Where are you? I know where you were yesterday, before I decided to box the books to take to Orvieto. You were right there, almost at pillow height, next to Dylan Thomas. I empty out the box, scattering the books on the sheet of my unmade bed. IContinue reading “Poetry”

Dylan Thomas

Now how did Dylan Thomas get involved. Good morning, I say and heanswers back. The book jacket is practically falling to pieces, butthe pages inside the hard cover, while yellowed, are all intact. I toolike it early in the morning I tell him. But my descriptions cannotcompare  with yours. Perhaps I can learn from you.Continue reading “Dylan Thomas”

Rembrandt’s Eyes

Some of my friends are resting on shelves in the guest room. While I can’t have my conversations with most of you at night, for you are rather hefty tomes, I hold most of you particularly dear. You, Rembrandt, are there in more books than one. In his Rembrandt’s Eyes, Simon Schama really understands youContinue reading “Rembrandt’s Eyes”


Dust Jackets

Book jackets or dust jackets. Call them what you will. Most of my books no longer have them, if they ever did. Those with hard covers, however, fall into another category. But since what matters is inside and I couldn’t care less for what it looks like, often I’d rather get a less expensive softContinue reading “Dust Jackets”

Lost Books

Looking for a book. A specific book. It happens to all of us. We think we know where it is on our shelves, we pull down every single book, but it isn’t there. So maybe we had lent it to someone? Very likely. Especially if it was a book we were enamored of. Sure youContinue reading “Lost Books”

Words Words Words

Words, words, words. What we feel and want, demand, require are all expressed in words. The written word, the spoken word, modem, internet are ways to know each other. Words engender words. Create, produce, grow like a vine around a thought. Define its shape, explore, insinuate, envelop. A word – an offshoot – of theContinue reading “Words Words Words”

Newfound Friends

Every so often – shall I call it a chance encounter? It’s happened to all of us. “I’d like you to meet…. I’m sure you have a lot in common.” It starts like that. You gradually discover that the other and you think alike, or that what the other says is something you may havewantedContinue reading “Newfound Friends”

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