The definition of Love

It goes without saying.

It came in the mail today

[...]

I've heard the creak and whisper of the night's
improbable apparatus, lacewings and frost
and starlight on the rooftops like a veil

but nothing has ever spoken, nothing has come
from the elsewhere I measure out in songs and dreams,
although I glimpse, in spite of what I know,

the guessed-at world where nothing has been said
but everything is on the point of speaking:
you in your chair, looking up from a half-read book

as the angel who cannot exist is replaced by the given,
the sullen gift of everyday events:
the promise of rain, a footfall, the dread of belonging.

John Burnside

Where Is the friend's home?

Medina of Chefchouen, Morocco

Fast

Some days I do.

Nexus

If you are a cause, you are responsible.

Wishful thinking

up north, Portugal

Existence lies only in the present

The past is memory, the future is death.

On the language of the deities

Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muss man schweigen

Tractatus logico-philosophicus, 7

The parting of a suit

The parting of a suit is not easy to overcome
A little more me it had helped me to become

The parting of a suit is a strange deed indeed
For you do not lose your skin but something in between

When at last you let go you feel sorry and sad
For the times spent together, both good and bad

The parting of a suit is not easy to overcome
You both must be gentlemen and thus get it done.

to my dark blue suit bought in Oxford St many years ago

Contemplating the descent

down Cacela

Under the sign of Pisces

I am a fish. Mute. Expressionless.

There is nothing else

The past is dead; the future is unborn.
Only the present has value.

Feelings, nothing more than feelings

Betrayal lies ever and only with the betrayed.

The white hunger

I search in people, I search in books, I search in movies, I search in places, landscapes and dreams. I search for what, I do not know. I search, therefore, for knowledge of what I search, this hunger inside, for me.

Above. Inside. Tétouan. Morocco.

If I could learn to read the signs

On page 197 of Witt's bio; compulsive reading, slow digestion; new Saramago on death bought: on page 11 a Witt's quote on death.

What does it all mean?

No better book