Come sleep with me: we won’t make love. Love will make us. — Julio Cortázar, Hopscotch. (Pantheon; 1st Pantheon pbk. ed edition, February 12, 1987) Originally published 1963.
What I remember of the day: soft rain; and the touch of our fingertips’ shy coupling… and the sweet intimacy of our pilgrimage over broken ground and the way you listened with your body leaning into my voice and hearing so deeply far deeper than words the tender heart-beat of unspoken things. — Barbara Grenfell… Continue reading Barbara Grenfell Fairhead
We have the marvelous gift of making everything insignificant. — Nikolai Gogol