Jorges Louis Borges
The tall unknowable city takes over the countryside. […]
They speak of homeland.
My homeland is […]
the willow grove’s visible prayer as evening falls.
Time is living me.
More silent than my shadow, I pass through the loftily covetous multitude.
They are indispensable, singular, worthy of tomorrow.
My name is someone and anyone.
I walk slowly, like one who comes from so far away
he doesn’t expect to arrive.
You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.
Robin Williams
It isn’t just a village. The houses aren’t just places to live. Everything belongs to everybody. Everyone belongs to everyone else.
Joanne Harris, ‘Blackberry Wine’
There’s a certain amount of freedom involved in cycling: you’re self-propelled and decide exactly where to go. If you see something that catches your eye to the left, you can veer off there, which isn’t so easy in a car, and you can’t cover as much ground walking.
David Byrne (who has never walked from Canterbury to Rome)
Robert A. Heinlein, ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’
‘Is This Paradise?’
‘I can guarantee you that it isn’t,’ Jubal assured him. ‘My taxes are due this week.’
… liminal spaces,
Carrie Newcomer, ‘Liminality’
The half-tamed and unruly patch
Where the forest gives way
Look at their shoes!
Charles Beaumont, ‘A Spy Alone’
