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Archive for the ‘absinthe’ Category

My wife Marian was cheated of a life in Paris by Adolf Hitler. Her natural mother, a Jew, whom she never knew, was a performer in the Paris theatre before the war. By 1945, in a state of expectancy, she had fled to Montreal, in all probability to escape the Gestapo sweeps which would have [...]

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Sleep, dream, opiates, oblivion. Years in which I read Keats above all others, culminating finally in a visit to his home on the edge of Hampstead Heath. A life surrounded by dark colors, drawn curtains, bottles of cabernet and candlelight. Solitary hours in a moonlit garden, midnight excursions to graveyards, daylong pilgrimages to the Symbolist [...]

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