This will hurt me...

Ezra stalks the dunes. Marion Bay. August 2013. I'll stop for Death, I reckon. Because I could not stop for Death , Emily Dickenson Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school, where children strove At recess, in the ring; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. Or rather, he passed us; The dews grew quivering and chill, For only gossamer my gown, My tippet only tulle. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.

Ezra, there’s a mighty big sand dune behind you. Calverts Beach, March 2011. First of all, I have no need or desire to see snuff photographs or videos of Mr Bin Laden. However, I will confess to being bemused by the White House’s comment of “ We don't trot out this stuff as trophies ”, given the pep rally-like glee that this particular extrajudicial killing has generated. It strikes me that the passionate response to this week’s events very much resembles a trophy hunt. As it has been for ten years now… What confuses me is the American leadership’s sudden coyness when it comes to the precise details of the killing. While assassinations are always a messy business, they’d not exactly hidden that such an outcome was welcome for this particular odious fellow. Welcome to the world of asymmetric warfare ! The legal interpretations will continue for some time, and as with all things that involve the law, will never be resolved. What struck me though was the fact that the initial reports ...

Dune. No sign of David Lynch anywhere. Calverts Beach, South Arm Peninsula, February 2011. Friday Book Club! Book # 1: A Very Easy Death by Simone de Beauvoir A Very Easy Death is an interesting reflection on a depressing set of circumstances – the death of her elderly mother to cancer – and de Beauvoir makes a number of really good points; but the detached tone and emphasis on herself can’t help me but think that on the whole it does seem a little self-indulgent. As an exercise in recording the process of hospitalised death for the French middle class in the 1960s, I guess it captures it well enough. The very last chapter somewhat redeemed it as a work though. Only for the really interested. Book # 2: A Meeting by the River , Christopher Isherwood I’d not actually read any Isherwood up to this point, but was aware of his reputation . A Meeting by the River was his last novel and it explores the ambiguities inherent in sexuality, religious devotion, and sibling relationships. The s...

I call this: Ampelmännchen strides in amongst the dunes .