February 12th, 2006


Pen envy

Some time ago I met people that dreamt, breathed and inhaled poetry. They had no trouble to walk in forest and produce endless series of epigrams. Or sit some evening and produce a sonnet. I married one of them, but still feel pen envy, see here by mkitross and here by her mother.
Our visit to Joseph Brodsky burial site reported here. My in-laws knew him.