This week, Danielle Hark of Broken Light Collective challenges WP bloggers to photograph between, to capture something between two things, reflect on the process of transition, or interpret this word in our own way. I immediately think of the WWWW header ~ the space between the hand and the pen, between the paper and the word, between the idea and the ink.

Here, in the Cologne Cathedral, the stone mass rises, almost weightlessly, up to the 43m-high baldachin-style arches. In this narrow northern side nave, the light shines through five spectacular glass windows between the arches. CIMG2637



We all have our own idea of what between looks like. But did you ever wonder what between sounds like?

Listen to the sublime Meredith Monk move between image and object, light and sound, music and the mind.


Toni 6/21/14

Hi from Isabel Scheherazade. I’m watching a Penumbral Eclipse and my mind is free-ranging a bit. As usual I munch away at that glimpse I got of the killer in the courthouse.

#59 I, Isabel Scheherazade sit in my dormer window seat and watch the giant Hunter’s Moon. Over on the Moon’s southernmost “limb” me and my Earth have moved between the set-sun and full Moon and I can see the outer part of the Earth’s shadow–our Penumbra! Sort of like how I’m beginning to see myself and where I am in this whole life without Mom and Dad.

Before Pop and Mimi yanked me out of the courthouse, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Smith in a shadowy alcove in the dark corridor beyond the metal detectors. He was lit from above by a missing-light-bulb chandelier. I’m thinking about him while I watch the Penumbral Lunar Eclipse.  Mom had told me it would happen this month. We’ll watch it together, Isabel is what she promised. Hey, who knows? Maybe she IS watching it. I kinda like this idea: Mom’s gone but we’re both watching the same thing.

With this kind of eclipse the outer edge of the Earth’s shadow–the penumbra–slowly darkens part of the full moon. Deep shadows all ’round with our Earth’s edge imprinted on the Hunter’s Moon.

Hmmm. With Mr. Smith and me: Which of us would be the Earth and the Moon?

Here’s the glimpse I got: Mr. Smith hunches over, like he’s carrying a load on his back. Burdened down as they say in books. Too pooped to pop as Mom used to say when she got tired. Another man–his lawyer?–supports him on one side. On the other is this tiny old lady dressed all in black except for a bright blue scarf over her hair. Her black stockings are rolled to her knees, and she’s wearing these old fashioned lace-up heels, like you see in pictures of your great-grandmother.  She pats his back as they walk.

His suit is strange. I think it’s too small for him–like he might have gotten it for his wedding years ago and then grown up. You can see his white socks and all of his wrists. His hands shake–just like the time in the coffee shop. They shake so much he sticks them in his pockets.

This eclipse is getting hard to see, so I crawl into bed. I punch pillows and pull covers. I’m not ACTIVELY mad anymore.  All the court drama pushed my anger to the back rooms of my heart so I have energy to spare now. I’m going to use it on my letter to the judge.

No matter what Pop and Mimi say about there being different laws and shades of meaning, blah blah blah–no disrespect to Mimi and Pop–but Mom and Dad are DEAD because of this guy.

I want the judge to put him in jail and throw away the key.

Darn. The problem with thinking about this now is that it riles me and I can’t sleep.

Hmmmmm. Might as well get up and put THAT in the letter.

–Isabel Scheherazade, eclipse-watcher


Call Me…


That iconic first line, you know it even if you haven’t read the book.

And then there’s the movie. Remember Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab? One briny adrenaline rush after another.


Here’s an invitation from A New Ishmael.

The stories of Call Me Ishmael are as singular as the books the storytellers choose. 

Phoned in by booklovers like us.  Have a story to tell?



Here’s my favorite one about the Dictionary and heartache.



And this one, told by a man who grew up with Sneetches and civil rights.



Call Me Ishmael is one enthralling literary voyage. The tales are here, in the belly of the whale at Buzzfeed. 


Toni 6/11/14

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