Activity

Damp English day, in which I’ve thought persistently of Aurora. My recurrent images of women appear less like memories than a means of restoring life to what has mattered and was passingly eclipsed by war. It is ten years now since she and I first met and were lovers; six years since I last saw her…

We’d never seen espaliered trees, and thought they must be blitzed or dead.

Spreading a double page of Japanese characters, he uttered a stream of mad, paralaliac sounds, his comic rendering of Japanese.

Spreading a double page of Japanese characters, he uttered a stream of mad, paralaliac sounds, his comic rendering of Japanese.

Since the night of Gardiner’s death, the night of the twirling girls on Ita Jima, I rediscover memories distinct from war. Often of women, of my youthful loves—Aurora, Gigliola. Not so much Moira, perhaps because our story achieved, in London, that nearly ritual fulfillment. It is incompleteness th…