When I mentioned to him that I had seen this painting, Pietro Lorenzetti, Christ Between Saints Peter and Paul, c.1320, he just recoiled, as if I had said a very dirty word.
In the loneliness of the immensity of the night, sometimes, the schoolgirl comes forward and speak to P, words he haven’t heard for nearly four decades, already. In P’s life, now, the past, present, and future, have become a single, all encompassing, time space, the past, sometimes, acquiring an overbearing presence. As P lives in this continuous space, he just … Read More
You are right, these lines have been written before, I am writing them again because that moment flagmarked by those words, written yesterday, a moment that lasted no more than a few seconds, not even a full minute, has remained clinging inside me, eating the innards of my mind, those seconds starving for a because is the because of repeating … Read More
The gentle ruffle of spring in the sparrows’ song I hear.