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.