outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile


Yesterday I had afternoon tea in a cafe, with a view of the castle ruins. Sunshine drifted in, settling on a young girl's face, pleased with her new sparkly pearl-buckled shoes. Today I walked Sam in the filthy rain, past those ruins, a fierce-flowing river, the soap derby. Later I read essays from Mary Oliver's Upstream: "I walk, all day, across the heaven-verging field." Also: "The fringes of paradise: summer on earth."


I still want a cat. I still stop for any puss I see. I will answer the yowl at my door with food. I remember every cat I've met on my travels: the cats of Malaga, stalking the shoreline; the cats of Marrakech, sunning themselves in a blue jewel of a garden; that small black cat in Granada's ancient Jewish quarter, which I fed rabbit from my plate. Every cat remembers it was once worshipped, and I must serve it when it comes to grace me with its presence.


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