Why not?
Temptations to provocation arise everywhere nowadays. Not merely in the public forum but around the dinner table and in the gatherings of extended family. Opinions sprout with pugnacious energy.
writing
Sushi Barn
Comic mashup of architectural junk, fake artefacts, labels, copies neither-more-nor-less authentic than the originals, ready-mades from our very real present. People in this world, even in dire situations, similarly encrypted by bad jeans, say, or an outdated and ugly camo-pattern headscarf.
Weedpatch
For a moment, suppose migrancy decriminalised and all the border apparatus, the walls, the arrests, the holding pens, the clogged courts, the caged children, the separation of families, all dismantled.
Mistaken – a parable
Give her some days to think about this, in the intervals of such diplomatic and social encounters as are the reason for her visit, and make it that she has hatched a plan to satisfy her curiosity. A walk outside the grounds, she says. Unaccompanied insisted on, in spite of raised eyebrows.
Lent Lily
The experiences of that winter and spring went into the writing of my novel Luggas Wood, including a mention of the daffodils, and many people and situations encountered then, and this I have decided is the problem with that book.
Silence
I have only now learned of the death, over a year ago, of Fr. James Coutts, former vicar of St. Mary’s, Monmouth. The news brings a rush of memories of a most gentle and saintly man, and a reminder of a debt.