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Sometimes the premise of a book is just so good that there s no way not to read it – like the story of a downtrodden Cambridge student who s about to finish her PhD in analytical magic when her supervisor dies in a lab accident. Obviously her only sensible option is to travel to Hell to bring him back – after all, how else is she going to graduate? R.F. Kuang s novel sets this premise up brilliantly, and delivers on it well. The text is filled with delightful references to everything from high…

This is one of those books where the title and the cover were very successful at doing their job of grabbing my attention – and the book itself went on to really deliver on what they promised. I bought The Society of Unknowable Objects on a whim as a holiday read, and it s a thoroughly entertaining spy-thriller-meets-fantasy-romp that nevertheless has real characters and raises some unexpectedly deep and dark philosophical questions. From the very beginning it hooked me with an unsolved…

Written for a Reedsy competition with the following prompt: Write about someone s journey to retrieve an important object that s been out of their possession for a long time. We are the archaeologists of our own lives. While we dance nimbly on the surface, the strata of our past selves accumulates below our feet. Slowly, layer upon layer of detritus crushes our forgotten pains and joys into barren dust. Oh, we try to remember those lost glories — mounting infrequent expeditions, each doomed to…

Why does the wizened old wyvern still wander, A wintry grey whisper on windswept white wastes? And why is a werewolf so wearily weeping With worry at wearing the moon s wilder tastes? Why would the will o the wisp softly waiver, And hide from the wayfarers walking the weeds? And why won t the wickedest witches still whisper Of waxing, and waning, and warlocks weird needs. We worked on our wards and found ways to be shielded From wolves, wights and wyrms that once wizardry fielded: A…

While it may not seems so, I am still here. And intend to start blogging again :-)

On a rainy Monday morning, my body tired from a tough hike yesterday and not in much mood for hiking, the sign saying Mountain Lake was just 5 miles from the Trail seemed more than serendipitous. Quite coincidentally my neighbour at the motel in Pearisburg, and elderly gentleman called Buddy, had mentioned to me two days earlier that we were quite close to Mountain Lake, where (he informed me) Dirty Dancing was filmed. Or at least one of its two locations - the other being Lake Lure, NC - and…

Day 46; Mile 630. I ve taken the last 165 miles since Damascus fairly slow. The first stretch, to Marion, because I felt a bit worn out from hard hiking the week before. It was a good area though, passing through the Grayson Highlands with their famous wild ponies. After a zero day in Marion (where I again ran into the other South Africans and had dinner with them), I made a good start doing 24 miles on Saturday. Including a lunch stop at The Barn, a (not terribly inspiring) restaurant next to…

Day 33; Mile 467. I reached Damascus, VA on Saturday evening after averaging more than 20 miles per day the past week, and walking 26 on Saturday. Not only have I now been hiking for more than a month, but I m also in my fourth state - Virginia. The week s been a good one. On Monday, after a late start from Erwin, I passed a group of former thru-hikers camping by the Trail and was given a soda - a pretty big deal when you re out hiking. On Tuesday I met a cool girl called Wings, who shared some…

Day 27; Mile 341. It s been quite an eventful week. I hiked down out of the Smokies to perfect weather and great views, coming into Hot Springs, NC on Tuesday after a 26 mile day. In the last mile or so I saw my first rattlesnake, right on the path. it gave me quite a fright! Hot Springs itself is a beautiful, sleepy little town reminiscent of places along Route 62 in SA. It also provided me with my first cappuccino on the trail. Moving on from there I walked two 20 mile days to reach Sams Gap…

Day 18, Mile 206 It s been a good week on the Trail - my leg has healed, I m feeling in really good shape and I ve managed three 20+ mile days. I ve covered almost 100 miles this week (and should do another 15 or 20 tomorrow), putting me just shy of the 10% point. The rhythm of Trail life is also becoming natural. Wake up around 6:30; pack up my things and eat two granola bars to leave by 7:00; walk at about 2 mi/h, taking 4 or 5 short breaks to snack on Reeses peanut butter cups, chocolate…

Day 12; Mile 109.8 I m lying in bed on a cold, wet Sunday morning as we wait out today s rain in Franklin, NC. The weather generally has been more wintery than not, about exactly what I left behind in Cape Town. I can t wait for it to warm up! Having crossed both my first state boundary, from Georgia into North Carolina, and passed the 100 mile mark, I feel I m making progress. My shin has almost healed, and I m easily managing 16 mile days again. Hopefully I ll do my first 20 miler this week.…

After a good day s rest on Friday, I set off on a cold rainy Saturday morning. I made good time, covering some 18.8 miles by about 13:30. I hit a very cold Blue Mountain Shelter, which already housed Cowboy , Sunrise and Sunset . Sunrise, a Brazillian girl who lives in Denver, promptly christened me Flying By , or FlyBy for short. The trail name was perhaps too optimistic, though. The day s hike was clearly a bit much for my body, and by late afternoon I was feeling rather nauseous, and had the…

It was with a lump in my throat that I waved goodbye to Pieter and Sureta and walked off, alone, to start the long road to Maine. When I signed yhe initial register, I was thru-hiker number 1043 for the year. I was excited, but also real nervous and slightly overwhelmed by the sheer scale of it all. The 8 mile approach trail went by quickly, and having set off around 11:30 I reached the official start of the AT around 15:00. From there it was a rainy afternoon walk to the first shelter I stayed…

After what seems an incredibly long time, my journey towards the Appalachian Trail has finally begun. Having spent a great weekend with friends in Jo burg, I m now sitting in OR Tambo waiting for my flight. Reaching this point already seems an adventure. I have given away or sold (almost) all my possessions, extracted myself from any responsibilities at work, and said goodbye to friends and family. As for my expectations of the coming months in the wilderness and far-away, they are surprisingly…

In the process of cleaning out my life before I head off on the Appalachian Trail (more on that later), I came across a set of life goals I wrote when I was 18, almost a decade ago. I was pleasantly surprised that the general trend is still well aligned to what I care about. So, here they are then: Be happy Fall in love Obtain at least 3 unrelated degrees Speak at least 5 languages Be able to play Flight of the Bumblebee Be involved in a professional show (musical?) Hitchhike through Europe…

It was an awakening. Drifting happily through life; Years feel like days feel like years – No hint of the worlds as yet unseen. And then… The desert is grey with rain. Sand runs into mud, Puddles join, streams form, waters gather. The storm a cocoon, soft and close. Light pours through cracks. Rainbows reflect in scattered pools. A metamorphosis, a change. Silken stormy rags quickly fade, Newly forged wings dry in the sun. …eyes open wide. Sight that tames forever, Life a dustless crystal sky.…

The great machine of the world turns. Spinning gears slice through puffs of steam; Clattering chains dance with power lines. An endless sea of motion and noise. As parts rust, collapse, crumble, Stripped and faded by entropy s embrace, So too new constructions emerge – Sharp angles and polished steel. Blind machinists tinker with cogs and circuits, Workers toil silently to maintain, to build. A mindless worship of a mindless machine. In quiet corners we watch, entranced, Or from high aerials…

I was toying with anagrams of my name, and the meanings were so enticing that I felt I had to try and create something from them... One still son on lost lines. Lo! Stolen sin, eons on, still lets loons in. So none lilts on silent Sol. No notes, ills, no lost lines. One son, still, soon; lest nil loons enlist. One still son on lines lost. Linsen Loots

Omens. Signs everywhere. I can t understand. Although, maybe it means...? No, that s not it either. I feel trapped by them all. If only I could interpret one thing. I m sure the rest would unravel from there. But the puzzle s too hard; I remain stuck fast. Petrified, paralysed, still unable to take that first, portentous step.

“Shhhhh...” Another appeared. “Don’t disturb them.” “Can they see us?” Natalie shrugged, her eyes wide. Another one left father’s liquor cabinet. “What are they looking for?” I whispered. Again Natalie shrugged, the swarm’s behaviour a mystery. Only later did we understand what they were after. But then it was too late; the drunken webs unavoidable.