This contribution comes from the incomparable John Barnstead.

Barnstead always takes a volume of German poetry along with him on the hour and a half long ride from Halifax to Wolfville, while Pernicious (John¼s cat, or the other way around) prefers a volume of Zen. Barnstead usually gets mad when Pernicious starts pestering him for a neck scritching, his slim volume already finished by the time they reach Windsor, while Barnstead is less than half way through his book. But then, try as you might, you just can’t make Rilke terse as a Tao seer…

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