Tag: hitchhiker

  • 309: Patagonia part 4

    No matter now in what city I find myself, when a cold wind is such that it penetrates to the marrow, and scatters the rain into a melee of fine mist-fall visible under a street light, I can’t help but peering up at the brume be lulled smiling into memories den; down the burning corridors […]

  • 217: Patagonia part 3 (Amy, somewhere)

    Strange it now seems that it bothered me how she would always dawdle behind while there was so much to see, and I’d never notice at the time that she was happy enough just watching me. Heading toward wherever I was, to end a searching in my arms that were never open. I recall with […]

  • 125: Patagonia

    Dec 14 ’13 – There is a point in the auroral air, when, not arrived to full definition, cloud and sky are one hue dividing gradually, and the hinted at majesty unfolding pours steadily into the patient soul a satisfied resignation. Birds inform of the event by song, and flutter in the blue darkness from […]

  • 123: Those hills

    Those hills where rests your often look; let reason sleep awhile, – go there.

  • 122

    Commonly after a spell abroad, I return to find the usual irritations of home have in my absence been polished to the plenitude of their quality, proving me thus a man of poor judgement. The greater share of dust is always laid over the intellect.

  • 121: What I came for

    Extravagance of air and light today fetched me early from indoors, and no way knowing or caring where, would I follow so long as were sun and breeze proliferate. Being my final day in Nelson, instead of thus choking for want of natural restoratives, agonising the golden hours decrease under airport ceilings, I went some […]

  • 119: Wet the day

    ”Ye province of revolutions lure; preserving heights where ecstasy brews, Of relic agreements furious homecoming, riding hymns of deep-set change, Savage and sweeping the entire. Instincts bowed to primal charms palpable loom.” As though with impatience pregnant at the oppression, the sun rushed from a corner early and determined, finding differently few or none with […]

  • 117: A day like any other

    A shower broke overnight and has left a blanket of beaded gleam and Yellow Ginger flower across the face of things we used to sit on. The air, a capricious haze of coasting spray, adrift of fountains heavenly, carries along its light essence a most cleanly and gratifying fragrance as sinks the worries into a […]