It’s not the first time that the city I live in and love has been attacked – not even the first time since I have lived here. It’s not the worst attack we have ever experienced, and unless I had had the news on late last night, I would not have known about it, and… Continue reading Aftermath
This is the final two stanzas or a poem by Warsan Shire. The poem is called What They Did Yesterday Afternoon. Or in this case, yesterday evening….. later that night i held an atlas in my lap ran my fingers across the whole world and whispered where does it hurt? it answered everywhere everywhere everywhere.
He is the kind of man about whom people will write many wonderful things and eloquent tributes – all of them deserved. I cannot really add to what will be said, but there is this memory that I treasure. I was not finishing my thesis; I had been writing it for nearly 11 years. It… Continue reading A good man….
I’ve just heard that somebody whose company I valued greatly has died, and I am sad. We had exchanged emails only a couple of weeks ago, and had tentative plans to meet in January. And now we won’t. We have known each other for about 25 years, only meeting about twice a year, and more recently,… Continue reading I will miss him….
Today, this is the poem that keeps going on in my brain. It is by C P Cavafy – who was not the world’s most cheerful poet. But today, I am not at my most cheerful… The City You said: “I’ll go to another country, go to another shore, find another city better than this… Continue reading A poem rattling in my head
He was standing against the wall crying his eyes out. He was a man in his mid forties, and something was clearly terribly wrong. It was about 9.30pm, and there was nobody else nearby. I kept walking. I stopped at the junction just up ahead and swithered for a long time. Should I go back,… Continue reading Walking past on the other side…