Retrospection 1: My Madeleines

Retrospection 1: My Madeleines

Memories are not, I think, narratives we remember as much as impressions, images and sensations. In that I am in agreement with Proust. Such imprints seem, at least to me at this great distance from the events, a little arbitrary although not like events seen through...
It’s a Lovely Day to be a Little Groundhog

It’s a Lovely Day to be a Little Groundhog

My parents apparently intended to name me “Maggie,” but settled on “John” when they became convinced I would be a boy; my mother, in a postnatal stupor, responded to a badgering nurse that my name was “Ellen” and that’s what...

Westminster Quarters

Theo was not pleased. She parked herself in the doorway to the office, as though following instructions about seeking safety during an earthquake. Her tail locked around her legs and her yellow eyes gleamed disapproval. I wasn’t quite sure what the noise was. It...