Petit Sphinx Gardien by Leonor Fini, 1943-44. Oil on canvas. What is it that wounds and also heals, disappears and reappears, hides and reveals. Sphinx, I dare not give the word for fear that it will then have power over … Continue reading →
Professor, poet, philosophical dilettante, plus some other impressively heady alliterations. Instructional designer and copywriter. Cognitive neuroscientist by night. Self-diagnosed coffee addict, sometime dancer, brooding bibliophile, and an always salty sailor.