My French is only slightly better than my Latin,
I’m afraid, which means—though I’m perfectly capable
of informing a passer-by on the Rue Saint-Jacques
that je ne parle pas français—I can’t indulge in
Mélange Adultère de Tout, unfortunately.
Besides, I’d rather see Longhaven Cliffs
than your cenotaph.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Have you ever heard of a library without books? I haven’t—at least until now—but apparently such a thing actually exists. And while I could understand the appeal to some extent, it seems to me that it is something akin to a vegan steak—edible, perhaps somewhat filling, yet still lacking a few essentials. Maybe it’s a hint of nostalgia, but I still remember when, as a youngster, I would go to the local library, stand between the shelves and, with my eyes closed, randomly pull out a book. You can’t imagine how many treasures I discovered that way. Besides, my objection most likely comes from the fact that it seems like another step towards eliminating the traditional book, because although their electronic replacements have their advantages, they are still far from surpassing the paper ones. Take the 1969 Faber and Faber edition of The Complete Poems and Plays of T.S. Eliot in your hand (which I happen to have on my desk right now), and you will understand.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
Abandoned in no man’s land
between the living room and the kitchenette,
I read ‘Portrait of a Lady’ aloud
to the mealy-mouthed hum
of the microwave heating fish
and vegetables for my solitary dinner,
only to realise that it no longer mattered much
who I was before breakfast if no one was there
to tell me how to get through the supper.
I brought home a used copy of T.S. Eliot’s collected works and cried
like Peter Kien on his wedding night—there was something tragic
about the torn and stained dust jacket and the dirty edges, as if Faber
and Faber had printed a hewer’s handbook—only to catch a glimpse
of a snob in the mirror.
hidden pilcrow 