yeoldefinch

“I carry a blue book with me everywhere and speak of nothing else.  And I am not the only one – other people too beam with pleasure when they see it.  I have discovered that it has the same colours as a certain pretty Chinese porcelain:  its blue gaze is in the leather, its white […]

“I milked Bert (the rocking horse).  Berta has a milk [?] (points to the long hairs that hang down the front) “I milked her there.” “A sadly comic ladder” – “I must climb over there sadly”, he said, after my mother replied to his words about having to climb over that it seemed rather sad.” […]

“Here we have a man who’s job it is to gather the refuse in the capital.  Everything that the big city has thrown away, everything it has lost, everything it has scorned, everything it has crushed underfoot he catalogues and collects.  He collates the annals of intemperance, the capharnaum of waste.  He sorts things out […]

Paper, paperly paper, it’s sort of papery. “Give up trying to describe it!”, they say. And so I shall.