It was the last night in my Canadian home. The day, a busy one, the end of a stretching week, was spent keeping some semblance of order, some idea of knowing what, with the dwindling time left, was still most important. I was outside my front door, in the dark, fumbling with my keys, looking for [...]
Dear Santa: Thanks for last year's gift, the Gulliver's Travels book. I enjoyed the Houyhnhnms, those horse-like characters. So bright. So noble. And those savage Yahoos. So dim. So lost. Poor Gulliver couldn't see himself in them. But Gulliver really was a traveller. Like you Santa. That's why I'm writing. Distribution problems down here are getting worse.