Stopping in for a visit here.
What a marvelous night it is, summer thriving!
It’s the end of what the French call « l’heure bleue, » that curious hour between sunset and the dark spread of night. So luscious! I say I’d like to have it this way all the time, but then of course if I had it this way all the time I’d want it another way…
A wonderful read in The New Yorker, entitled, « Silence, Punning, Exile, » subtitle something like « The Puns and Detritus in James Joyce. » And here’s a quote:
« A pun is a verbal coincidence: a word that just happens to sound like another word. In this respect, the whole of “Ulysses” (“Oolissays” is how Joyce pronounced it) is a kind of pun. It’s a story about people and events on a day in Dublin that, when told in a certain way, “sounds like” Homer’s Odyssey. »
All of life is a pun!
Article worth checking out, even if Joyce isn’t really your thing:
And in the meantime, have a look at the sky, by day or night, and the trees, the ground below your feet, the person across from you in the bus or metro, the lady selling bread…