A few months ago, my India-set story “Hymn to Sri Devi” appeared in Catamaran. When I first shared it, I hadn’t realized they’d made the full text available as well. Now they have — so here are the pages (link to pdf in first comment). 1/2
But how come that some if not all dreams are visual, that we can see them, feel them, often becoming involved in them, immersed? Some have colour, tone and are animated. Is it that the brain illuminates as the dream progresses? In the dark cortex. What is the answer, in non-scientific terms?
When it leaves the orphanage...but it still might view life as a cul-de-sac?
Nice to know Stitchwort has a resident moth. Here's a Mint Moth from last season enjoying a break on a buttercup flower.
A look at the long, illustrious literary history of a city by the sea
themadridreview.com/f/beruit-a-l...
##beruit #lebanon #history
Could be...or Bradford? Anyhow, I hope all that beautiful stone hasn't been tarmacadamed!!
All that solid stone slab and curved causey. Beautiful. And the junior donkey jacket on the taller child, splendid. Like my old NCB version. West Yorkshire, Huddersfield?
Can Slot fire the lads up for an all or nothing second half, rouse the crowd, kickass, put his balls on the table and open the sluicegates....where is his passion... his do or die last minute speech..come on Slot loosen up and get these brilliant individuals working their guts out for the cause.
Cooked in butter, seasoning added...lightly boiled...savoury dip. Yum.
It feels weird at the moment, sharing things you’ve written in times of war. But anyway, for whatever it’s worth, here is something of mine that’s just come out in the journal Pictura @pictura.bsky.social - it's called "Simulation".
picturajournal.com/issue-six/ar...
Good old Quercus robinhoodii. Pardon my Latin.
The giant sleeps. Still in it's dark winter guise but impressive nonetheless. Yes they fenced it off a long time ago. Those supports have been annoying me for decades but needed I guess just in case. Such weight of time...
Quite a few old staghorn oaks near Edwinstowe and in Clumber Park, venerable beech and decent yew too. Worth a few hours ...and of course there's the Major Oak which as a child, many moons ago, I could play in and on. Tis a sight.
....two crested newts...and a local council sewers inspector!!
Great job. A baby toad, how wonderful.
Cool photos, thanks. I wonder what the motive for such an offbeat journey was?
Your love of and feel for the natural world Mr Gilbert is instinctual. Your written pieces reflect this special connection you have with fauna&flora. Best wishes- getting it out there isn't always a straightforward process.
Editors are a common species but their diets tend to be restricted...
Oh yes the unfathomable beauty of the PP. Just crusty-thick enough with hints of jelly. Ate a big one once on a bench next to a village pitch. I'd love a midfield three: Pork Pie for solid tackling, Brown Sauce for through balls, Lime Pickle for exotic out of the blue (pardon me) finishing.
I have to go out in the sun.
False wolf spiders will be out in a pretend social hunt on the wall behind lungwort's pastel blues and reds. I might catch one of the first Commas risking life's daft variations for a small dose of warm light. Wings crafted out of dream flights. Suit a clean rock.
Q&A: How the UK became the first G7 country to phase out coal power #CBarchive
✍️ @drsimevans.carbonbrief.org @mollylempriere.carbonbrief.org
🎨 @jjgoodman.bsky.social
Read here ➡️ buff.ly/0awDP6d
1825: I had a very odd dream last night & I take it as an ill omen for I dont expect that the book will meet a better fate - I thought I had one of the proofs of the new poems from London & after looking at it awhile it shrank thro my hands like sand & crumbled into dust - the birds were singing...
We have wrens! I hear them ticking and whirring and see them occasionally in the tangled wilder brambly stuff behind the shed. Baby wrens are like blurry moths - saw 2or3 one year following a parent into the hedge bottom.
Always love the magical aura of the urban fox!
Our oldest Monks Wood Marsh Tit has survived his 11th winter, and is singing again on his territory, 40 m from where he was colour-ringed in 2015. He's been widowed again so is advertising for a new female. He's probably in the top 5 oldest Marsh Tits recorded in Britain. #ukbirding #ornithology
Methane undertones
Egg so Benedict
Dormant muckheap
Fermenting casserole
Colours of Ale dregs
Layers of eggy bread
???
Mead tinted turd extract
Compost a la melange
Reet reeky
Turmoil trendy
Last week's old fart residue
I don't think science can explain consciousness but it's crucial for helping us to understand it.
Science doesn't get soul right? Poetry perhaps, maybe fiction; music more likely. The soul which Descartes believed was located in the pineal gland, the soul he couldn't find because it's made of mind which only exists when neurons are firing and feelings form from what? Fascinating Mr Spock.
Feliz lunes a tod@s.
As a former coalminer I have a blackness resident in my head where in a fictional scene this song is background to what might be a disaster deep underground miles from sanity, a group of rippers, a deputy, a face worker, a shotblaster, a machine driver contemplate their fates, their triumphs....
