Eli S. Evans: Is That It

See, she was doing it again...

Cleopatra reputedly bathed in honey. The Magnum Opus, immortality...

My evening ritual is to feed a tribe of haughty mallards, stern-faced gulls, wobbly, raucous oystercatchers...

I want a holophrase...

Some writers search all their lives for the perfect place to work...

Climb if you will, but remember that courage and strength are naught without prudence...

Nobody can deny that there are serious dangers in Alpine climbing...

You could repeat escapes over the Berlin Wall. Was she really there?

Chekhov death fanatics abound. His last sip of champagne. The whole thing about the popping of the cork...

Beneath the cultural motley and profanities, Joyce's Ulysses is powered by love...

Fire, a defining feature of Australian history, might have been expected to produce a great storyteller...

My brand of nirvana often starts with a paragraph or a string of sentences...

Scholars exploring ideas of literary empathy are particularly interested in Lee's work...

Reading one’s own old books is always a queer sentimental experience...

Even if we live alone, even if extremely recluse, we still probably argue...

What’s necessary? And what’s good?

A couple of weeks ago, meeting for a beer with fish and chips at a local English styled pub where soccer from the real England was playing on hanging television sets...

These days, I’m not sure why I still bother to maintain a phone...