Roadside Picnic

After he said good-bye to the Madam and shook Benny’s hand, Noonan drove straight to the Borscht. The problem is we don’t notice the years pass, he thought. Screw the years—we don’t notice things change. We know that things change, we’ve been told since childhood that things change, we’ve witnessed things change ourselves many a time, and yet we’re still utterly incapable of noticing the moment that change comes—or we search for change in all the wrong places.

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Kafka and Rilke

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TÜBINGEN, JANUARY by Paul Celan

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Edinburgh: St. Cuthbert's: Thomas De Quincey's Grave

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The Parlograph

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