Sylvie, the French Foreign Object
Summer school took us to Valencia for three months, which was a heavenly place. The whole city took a nap at 2pm. They named a drink after us (“El Vantage,”…
Incessant White Noise
I am trying hard to concentrate on the seemingly meaningless jumble of numbers and letters, trying to make sense of it. Maths has never been my strong point…
Etudes of Summer
“The fog is long passed. Why must you fret so?” Mary Whitham asked her question from the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold. Barnaby didn’t look at her…