Before the 1914 war passports didn’t exist. You had to have one for Russia or Turkey, otherwise you went where you liked provided you had the money. He told me he was in London on a diplomatic passport. His stay was limited. He was going to Holland to lecture, or so I understood. He told me he was half French, half Dutch, and lived in Paris. ‘All this passport business is only because it’s wartime,’ I said. ‘They’ll stop it as soon as the war’s over.’ He smiled a little and said, ‘Perhaps, perhaps.’

jean rhys

feelings

Elee Kraljii Gardiner | The disclaimer tucked into the ISBN page made me laugh out loud: Disclaimer: The word “my” in the title is meant to signify the author—as such no claims are made on anyone else’s.

Nick Flynn | The disclaimer is playful, I hope, but also deadly serious—I’ve gotten into a lot of trouble, over the years, imagining that I can truly understand the inner life of someone else, especially those closest to me.

taken from an interview for radar poetry