Murder He Blogged

tree with no leaves in moonlight3 am by the fire
 – fri, 03/06/2009

The fire is roaring. It’s turned up all the way. The dogs are sleeping.

If you like, you can imagine that I’m smoking a pipe. That’s what I’m doing. Imagining. And reading. I don’t have any favorite books but I have several favorite paragraphs. Like this one here. I’ll read it to you. Not the whole thing. Just some of the best words and sentences. I may be paraphrasing. I don’t have the book in front of me. Now relax.

Generally anyone feels secure on familiar grounds, but the theoretician is not quite certain that he won’t get lost; while others have no difficulty moving around, he gets entangled, having difficulty ignoring a feeling of confusion which he is first inclined to attribute to his own limitations.

Where I live is not the city or the country. I’m not old, but I’m not young.

I’m outside now. It’s not cold. I would go inside to turn the fire down, but I’m tangled in the bramble.

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