Books

With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?

Oscar Wilde

Lincoln in the Bardo

“Everything was real; inconceivably real, infinitely dear. These and all things started as nothing, latent within a vast energy-broth, but then we named them, and loved them, and, in this way, brought them forth. And now we must lose them.” In honor of the Man Booker Prize winner being announced yesterday, and also because I… Continue reading Lincoln in the Bardo