Writing Is One Of The

I Have No Phobias. Phobias Are Irrational. My Fears Are Rational And Carefully Cultivated, Like Roses.

She Was Standing In The Airport Of Copenhagen, Staring At A Doorway, Trying To Figure Out If It Was (a) A Bathroom And (b) What Kind Of Bathroom It Was. The Door Merely Said H. Was She An H? Was H "hers"? It Could Just As Easily Be "his". Or "helicopter Room: Not A Bathroom At All

I Looked At The Stained-glass Image Of The Lamb In The Window Above Me, But That Only Reminded Me That Lambs Are Famous For Being Led To Slaughter, Or Sometimes Hanging Out With Lions In Ill-advised Relationships.

I Guess Life Is Full Of Maybes.

I Don't Know If There Is Actually More Rain Here In England, Or If It Was Just That The Rain Seemed To Be So Deliberately Annoying. Every Drop Hit The Window With A Peevish "am I Bothering You? Does This Make You Cold And Wet? Oh, Sorry.