Monthly Archives: November 2021

On Being Left a Library

Of all the features of bereavement, cardboard boxes are the most incongruous and the most inevitable. They help, and sometimes obstruct, the packing up and dispersing of a life. They carry possessions which have become things, in the hope that they may yet be possessions again.  

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Yet Another Update

For the rest of this year, with not much else going on, I will try to find some kind of representation. If that is unsuccessful, I will begin publishing manuscripts myself, at a fairly steady rate yet to be determined, almost certainly along the line pioneered by Nibras Kazimi with Stations Along the Rim. Perhaps with other elaborations.