Losing Their Names, These Things Underwent A

The Bed Is Now As Public As The Dinner Table And Governed By The Same Rules Of Formal Confrontation.

Iconic Clothing Has Been Secularized. . . . A Guardsman In A Dress Uniform Is Ostensibly An Icon Of Aggression; His Coat Is Red As The Blood He Hopes To Shed. Seen On A Coat-hanger, With No Man Inside It, The Uniform Loses All Its Blustering Significance And, To The Innocent Eye Seduced By Decorative Colour And Tactile Braid, It Is As Abstract In Symbolic Information As A Parasol To An Eskimo. It Becomes Simply Magnificent.

Moonlight, White Satin, Roses. A Bride.

He Was A Lovely Man In Many Ways. But He Kept On Insisting On Forgiving Me When There Was Nothing To Forgive.

A Book Is Simply The Container Of An Idea-like A Bottle; What Is Inside The Book Is What Matters.