Christmas reading

The birthday of the Infanta by Oscar Wilde, from A house of pomegranates

This might be my earliest memory of being sucked into a story, especially an image—the Dwarf's first gaze at the mirror, discovering that the Princess' love for him is only a mockery of his ugliness.
"But why will he not dance again?"

"Because his heart his broken."

"For the future let those who come to play with me have no hearts."

Most checked out

Image is everything

Dolphin love and limits

In the mail today

Dance is now

Dwell

Reflections after reading The Beach by Alex Garland

To rebel, to never rush

Gestes magnifiques

Lullaby singer

Some Stuff