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 is broken."

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

Dolphin love and limits — A companion sketch

From where I sit there's a garden. My eyes on greens and skyward. "Thank you for waiting," says the woman laying down my lunch.

"No, no. I enjoyed the wait."

*

Inside I'm dancing. If it's any good, a dance song will make you move, and move you while you're sat on a chair, waiting.

*

Except for flights, classes, meetings and meet-ups, I always arrive late.

*

Taking my meals this way is the only luxury I can afford. I see to it that I arrive early. To think, to read, to gaze out the window if I were lucky to have that seat. Sometimes I write. Sometimes nothing. If I were truly lucky, I was waiting for you.

Dinner isn't food on plate, it's the only real thing that's also an escape.

*

(Inspired by Connan Mockasin's Forever dolphin love and the sleeve art Connan made himself for the Erol Alkan rework of the song. Samurai gourmet has also greatly influenced the opening fragment.)