Are we ever free?

I  had managed to finish Salman Rushdie's memoir about the "Fatwa years",

just in time for our holiday in Rome.

Upon arrival I find Rushdie's "Midnight Children" waiting on the Italian bookshelf.

Connectivity.

A thank you note to our Roman guest house.

Happy 2014: Size does not matter!

HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM ROME!!!

On s'engage et puis on voit

Sometimes you stumble on lovely projects that others have set up.

And it only takes a minute to link it to your own. 

Now, the Umiverse is not a secret per se, 

but this elusive thought may be called that.

(I am not accountable for the above-mentioned attitude towards Swedes) 

The Photographic Museum of Stockholm, Sweden.

a Palestinian Poetress in an Ethiopian coffee house

 You find Aksum just off the tourist path around Grand Place.

It provides the perfect illusory escape from both space and time.

And however idyllic this Saturday morning was, 

these ominous yet encouraging words came to mind.

Here is Suheir Hammad performing her entire poem 'BREAK (clustered)'

Friends in lonley places

don't let winter depression get you down.

Reach out.

Connect.

Kiss.

 

a place just isolated enough for  this to be apropriate

The King's guards were watching me suspisciously.

Exile

Hidden words in a book by a writer very much used to hiding
because of his words.

Far from Satanic, but a small verse from August Strindberg's correspondence with Nietzsche

I can certainly admit that some of Mr Rushdie's own words have entered my

uterus'

mind