Return of the moonlit sylph

It was yesterday, on the 6th Jan. coincidentally, when I was glancing over the books in a charity shop that I saw a softback copy of “Nemesis” on the shelf above me. (As a Hobbit goddess, I sometimes construct the world in terms of the dimensions of where things are in relation to my immediate

Without a word

Interestinggg, my muse of the nimble-feet that you decided to delete the last cord of our communication: a cue of ‘moving on’ or sullen irritation? Interestinggg, my fascination locus, that whatever swung your focus – “in some shit” you did mention – erased your previous courteous attention. You didn’t say good-bye; you neglected an adieu.

Philip’s Log: Entries about my moonlit sylph

During the last two months of 2013 I entered a reading glut. It had taken me much of the year to finish the two Orhan Pamuk novel’s Snow (2004) and The Black Book (1994/ 2006). A friend even commented over the summer that perhaps I was deliberately taking my time with Snow because I was