Blind lust
As blindness overtakes me and I enter this strange world of autumnal fog and fairy lights1, I find I am compensating by throwing myself lustily into my other senses. Last night I lay naked in bed reading David Jones, eye pressed to the page, stuffing my face with a mix of green chilies and capers crushed with stilton, spooning the mash into my mouth between slurps of mulled wine with whisky. If I can't go to the dissipated world, the world will concentrate and come to the dissipated...
25 Nov 2024
Notes:
1 The world is becoming increasingly Christmassy; indeed so delightful is the retreat of the world, that I find it impossible to be miserable about it (though I can still read at the moment, so that may well change).