The quiet melancholy to be found in autumn evenings is well-known and cherished by those who appreciate such things. But there is a sadness less observed, that of a January evening, when despite the cold, the feeling that the quiet of winter is slipping away makes itself known and leaves us vaguely apprehensive that soon […]


In noise there is no peace. But to distinguish between noise and its opposite may be a skill that requires a lifetime.


Clouds form and reform in endless combinations. Aiming to remain at none.


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About Me

My name is Dessi Walsh and I happen to be something of a melancholy philologist in search of solitude and solace in nature, books and art, and prone to spending far too much time staring into the near distance. I lay no claim to insight, understanding or wisdom.