new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
How do we get stranded there, the ropes and sails slack and living on hardtack and rum? But how sweet to have the wind back, and, as Louis Simpson puts it, "a fragrance, pimienta, / the wind brings over the sea." Lovely, Vassilis!
Thanks, mate for coming on board and for the Simpson quote about a condition much more desirable than this described in a haiku by Seferis:Unprofitable lineWhat’s wrong with the rudder?The boat inscribes circlesand there’s not a single gull.
I have the impression the something's going on in the real world t'other side this pixeled page. can't put my finger on it. Is all well there?
Thanks for your concern, Joe; like the great majority of Greeks, we are trying hard to make the best of a very difficult situation; luckily, living as we do in the countryside makes it easier for us than if we were living in an urban area, and health-wise all members of the family are well, which is the thing that counts in the long run.