. . War’s infection spreads from the borders: this year, last year, next – honoured rites of slaughter. The phoenix flutters gaudy wings of sorrow. When war is the plough, crops of bone must follow. . .’ Momentary balance, like a huge standing ro...
Rivers and lakes in abundance fill the central plain. One may look West, North, East and see ranges of snow-capped mountains. When I was a young man I travelled through an endless bamboo forest unvisited by man. It lay several days walk from the Twin Cities and teemed with peculiar animals and bi...