Saturday, 16 June 2012

All Nature has a Feeling by John Clare

All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks
Are life eternal: and in silence they
Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
There's nothing mortal in them; their decay
Is the green life of change; to pass away
And come again in blooms revivified.
Its birth was heaven, eternal it its stay,
And with the sun and moon shall still abide
Beneath their day and night and heaven wide. 

Sunday, 3 June 2012


Aurora borealis. Terrible dawn. As they open their eyes, they are almost transparent.

Read more http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2012/01/23/120123fi_fiction_bolano#ixzz1wipsKyae

He will be the only member of the group to see the day dawning and the disastrous retreat of the night wanderers, each an enigmatic letter in an imaginary alphabet.

http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2012/01/23/120123fi_fiction_bolano#ixzz1wijy0tIt