#mark brand

Practicing more semi-realistic illustrations.

A frustrating late piece of #CrimeFiction from J J Connington which could have been so much better #amreading

A review of The Four Defences by J J Connington – 230310 It is a while since I have read anything by J J Connington, the nom de plume of Alfred Stewart, the distinguished chemistry professor. Originally published in 1940, The Four Defences is one of his later works and is based, loosely, on a famous real life from 1930, the Alfred Rouse case where a burning car tragedy proved to be something…

Raw Color's Feed's Per Minute Installation

from "The Late Hour"

Someone was saying something about shadows covering the field, about how things pass, how one sleeps towards morning and the morning goes. Someone was saying how the wind dies down but comes back, how shells are the coffins of wind but the weather continues. It was a long night and someone said something about the moon shedding its white on the cold field, that there was nothing ahead but more of the same. Someone mentioned a city she had been in before the war, a room with two candles against a wall, someone dancing, someone watching. We begin to believe the night would not end. Someone was saying the music was over and no one had noticed. Then someone said something about the planets, about the stars, how small they were, how far away.

Dal lungo party triste

da "The Late Hour"

Qualcuno stava dicendo qualcosa riguardo ombre che coprono il campo, riguardo lo scorrere dell'esistenza, di come ci si addormenti verso il mattino ed il mattino passi. Qualcuno stava dicendo di come il vento muoia ma poi ritorni, di come le conchiglie siano le bare del vento ma il tempo continui. Era una lunga notte e qualcuno disse qualcosa riguardo a come la luna perdeva il suo bianco sul freddo campo, come non ci fosse nulla davanti a noi oltre le solite cose. Qualcuno menzionò una citta in cui era stata prima della guerra, una stanza con due candele contro un muro, qualcuno che danzava, qualcuno che guardava. Cominciamo a credere che la notte non avrebbe avuto termine. Qualcuno stava dicendo che la musica era finita e nessuno se n'era accorto. Allora qualcuno disse qualcosa riguardo i pianeti, riguardo le stelle, di quanto fossero piccole, quanto fossero lontane.