Gorgeous, Gorgeous Amphibian, Clear Glass Windowpane

If the cosmos ever decide to bestow upon me the gift of beautiful photography, this it what I’ll do – Take one boy, preferably one with a long face and torso, Fitzpatrick skin type IV. Plop him in a poorly-lit changing room, stalls to the left, hooks to the right, no mirrors, no windows. Take […]

Protected: Day Three Of Operation: Befriend Ants.

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Protected: Day Two of Operation: Befriend Ants.

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Protected: Unnamed Socialization Operation, Or, I Can Do This, I Can Do This, I Can Do This.

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The moral sense in mortals is the duty / We have to pay on mortal sense of beauty

At eleven thirty my mother calls my name from the living room. The rise and dip of the E resting into theĀ guttural peace of the A, this Emma, Eeeeeeeemmaaaaaaa, Eeeehmuhhh, if anything, this name means home to me, but only ever when taken from her mouth. I go and find a room lit by a […]

That Which We Call A Rose

Someone needs to do for Emma what Nabokov did for Lolita. I am sorry, but I am no Janeite, and I hanker only for old Russian magic, Baba Yaga in a glade of silver birch, Count Leo in chalk blue and boots. Actually I am not sorry at all. Why is every Emma a Venetian […]