The way you think it is is not the way it is at all:We see through a glass darkly; we barely see beyond the veil. The doors of our perception dimmedby dullness of the daily grindsometimes a chink in the armour of agesshows us the light within, behind. There are more things in heaven and earthand... Continue Reading →

On Windermere’s far shoreclose to where the Cryer calls at nightyou’ll find a placeinvested with the spirit of a half-remembered history.The walls are crumbling now, andlittle of the roof remains;gone are the stained-glass windowsthrough which visitors would wanderenchanted as the characters of Edgar Allan Poebefore they were concieved:Red into yellow, purple, green and blue;a colour for... Continue Reading →