Heaven is a prison.

Sergeant Peter is a monolith,

Of cruel bureaucracies and protocols.

Let us see what crimes you have committed –

Beauty in Brazil is a cracked mirror. Fragmented by a colonial past, and the decades of suffering that have accompanied it, and at the same time bound together, if only in the most fragile way, by the tenacity of its own resistance.

Reading Trollope’s Can You Forgive Her

For the second time,

After a two-year hiatus

I come across the word “podgy”: