I don't like my mind
to live or to live
once again I see these hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke sent up, in silence, from among the trees!

Stuff

Stuff by you!

My Notes

My Top Album Recommendations
I have superior taste

My experience with Gumroad vs. FourthWall
Comparing two online store platforms

Chicken Soup Recipe
A recipe from my mother

My Book Reviews

Man Without Qualities

AZORE SAILOR. (Ascending, and pitching the tambourine up the scuttle.) Here you are, Pip; and there's the windlass-bitts; up you mount! Now, boys! (The half of them dance to the tambourine; some go below ... Read More

Peace Is Every Step

AZORE SAILOR. (Ascending, and pitching the tambourine up the scuttle.) Here you are, Pip; and there's the windlass-bitts; up you mount! Now, boys! (The half of them dance to the tambourine; some go below ... Read More

Meditations

AZORE SAILOR. (Ascending, and pitching the tambourine up the scuttle.) Here you are, Pip; and there's the windlass-bitts; up you mount! Now, boys! (The half of them dance to the tambourine; some go below ... Read More

Photos/Drawings