Harlequin Ballads

Above all other Virtues entertain Silence

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Trayko Popov, When Everyone Else is Asleep

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In hiding

It’s like this. A creature that refuses to let itself be seen, obscured partly by sharp branches, leaves, half-blooming flowers, wanting the whole spectrum of possibilities placed along the vertical and horizontal axes: urgently now, divine me the death of this longing, calculate the speed of its movement with the indices of indefinite number, and tell me, tell me the times approximate to the whys and why-nots, and the excess of and the deficient.

Tanya Thaweeskulchai. A Salivating Monstrous Plant. Cordite Publishing Inc., 2017.

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Wasted Pleasures © Luca Sorice

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Quando si incontrano, toccarsi è proprio uno shock

E tremando, e tremando, e tremando, e tremando

E tremando, e tremando, e tremando, e tremando forte

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Murray Fredericks

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Anastasia Marchenko

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Claudine Doury

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Giacomo Zornetta

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Nada, Amore Disperato

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Seven days of running, late August 2025. My old blog used to keep track of these things year after year, so perhaps this belongs there too.

But I am on my way.

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Francine Van Hove

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Sébastien François

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ssinnerman

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Chantal Convertini

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The James Joyce Centre Dublin. #my photo

I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down Jo me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

James Joyce. Ulysses. Edited with an introduction and notes by Jeri Johnson, Oxford World’s Classics, 2022.

Molly Bloom's Soliloquy

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Happy Bloomsday to you! A quiet celebration of stories as they unfold, of time turning in on itself, of meaning blooming softly in the unnoticed corners of the day.

One year ago today: Florence, Tracey Emin, heat on the stones, a city unfolding at walking pace.

It was a day about walking, eating, and masturbating. But it was also about glancing, tasting, pausing, losing your way, aching, imagining, longing. About studying and worshipping, smelling and remembering, drifting through thoughts, offering yourself to moments, beholding beauty, lingering in it, touching, misreading, forgetting, believing.

And always, always thinking. Thinking as rhythm, as weight, as music running beneath it all.

You can download the digital version of Notes on Sex and Solitude here. #my photos