Poetry: A Sign-Seeker by Thomas Hardy
A Sign-Seeker by Thomas Hardy I mark the months in liveries dank and dry, The day-tides many-shaped and hued; I see the nightfall shades subtrude, And…
Poetry: This Living Hand by John Keats
This Living Hand by John Keats This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold and in the icy silence of the…
Photography: Nasozi’s Work Studio
I went to Brooklyn the other day to check out my friend's work studio. Always curious about individual spaces and how we put them together, I was eager…
Diary | Solitude
within a place myself finds now to then is i . a palmy feeling with needs to speak ess to listen ore. exotic placed shadows tremble to…