the eyes of the dragonfly

I remember a summer day before the war, when I met, rare in any land, who completely deserve the name, so disparaged these days, of a “person of note.” I had caught a large dragonfly, malachite, turquoise, gauze and mother of pearl, and I showed it to him. This eminent man gave it a look, and predictable comment: “very pretty.” Then he started to…

cracks in the wall

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places. ~ Ernest Hemingway

sea and solitude

“so that the monotonous fall of the waves on the beach, which for the most part beat a measured and soothing tattoo to her thoughts seemed consolingly to repeat over and over again…” ~ Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse Cape Cod, Massachusetts

colors of a day

“People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and its ends, but to me it’s quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them….

after the dance

“The Mozart sonata Dad picked out begins to play. When we hear the first note, we open the sacks and the ladybugs escape through the opening, taking flight. It’s as if someone has dumped rubies from heaven. Soon they will land on the plants in search of bollworm eggs. But right now they are magic-red ribbons flying over our heads, weaving against the pink…