“The boys were never apart, from the earliest they were inseparable. They slept in the same bed, ate from the same plate, fought the same fights.”
“The boys were never apart, from the earliest they were inseparable. They slept in the same bed, ate from the same plate, fought the same fights.”
“Wait,” he would tell us. “You’ll have to wait.”
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.
They’re not meant to last very long, these votives, these penny candles.
“The humans, human-animals and animal-animals in my books are the deliverers of the spirit of my work, and its substance — character, humor, wordplay, story, color, and visual pleasure.” An interview with Calef Brown.
With clouds, within seconds, you’re working from your memory of a thing that is as nebulous and beautiful and temperamental as memory itself. As confusing as memory, seen from within the mist, as perplexing seen from afar.
Some poems and paintings from Rye Tippett.
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.
The river smell becomes the rain smell, and the rain comes, as it always does, expected but surprising, changing everything.
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.