“Memory encircles [Prague] with a wreath, a smoke-ring and the paper lattice of a valentine. I might have been shot out of a gun through all three of them and landed on one of its ancient squares fluttering with the scissor-work and the vapour and the foliage that would have followed me in the slipstream.” – Patrick Leigh Fermor, A time of gifts
“Anyway, here she is, pressed like a petal in the back pages of my journal, carefully drawn, with her head leaning on her forearm and gazing out under arched brows, and, by a stroke of luck, looking nearly as pretty in the sketch as she did in real life. ‘Iza, Arad. May 16. 1934’ is pencilled in at the top.’” – Patrick Leigh Fermor, Between the woods and the water
“With the passage of translated Homer that we had read the day before in mind, I thought how lovely it would be to stay on here, like Odysseus in the cave of Calypso.
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely,’ Nadejda said at that moment, breaking the long silence of her pose with a friendly smile that obliterated any traces of intensity, ‘if you could stay on here like Odysseus in the cave of Calypso?’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’” – Patrick Leigh Fermor, The broken road
The header image is a detail from Lionel Guibout’s Endless landscape (2013).