Status Updates From Pilgrimage 3 (Pilgrimage, #...

Far away from this barren north London, the chosen perfect stage for the last completion of a misery as wide as the world world, was her own dream world at home in her room, her strange unfailing self, the lovely world of lovely things seen in silence and tranquility, ...the myriad indescribable things of which day and night, in solitude, were full, at every moment...

Time pressed. The year was widening and lifting too rapidly towards the heights of June when everything but the green world, fresh gleaming in parks and squares through the London swelter, sweeping with the tones of spring and summer mingled amongst the changing trees, towards September, would fade from her grasp and disappear.

Catching up with miss Miriam

Perfect example of how lack of intersectionality makes every dialectic aimed at puzzling out how best to improve one's lot a more than useless exercise.

Revolving Lights

'But you know, although nothing the Americans say is worth hearing, there is something wonderful about the way they go on.'

Because some women had corns, feminine beauty was a myth; because the world could do without Mrs Hermans's poetry, women should confine their attention to puddings and babies. The infernal complacent cheek of it. This was the kind of thing middle-class men read. Unable to criticize it, they thought it witty and unanswerable. That was the worst of it. Books of this sort were read without anyone there to...

Deadlock

Living across the road from Yeats, as ya do....

The Trap