Please click here for initial navigation and backstory: –
MEET ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE aiR
….after Eric Schaller
A new Manet…
SOME OF MY RECENT SERIAL REVIEWS OF OLDER WORKS INDEXED…
MY AI DECORATED REVIEWS of older works
THAT GLIMPSE OF TRUTH: 100 FINEST STORIES
VARIOUS ‘PENGUIN’ SHORT STORY ANTHOLOGIES
MISCELLANEOUS OLDER GHOST OR HORROR STORIES
BEST BRITISH SHORT STORIES edited by Nicholas Royle
THE THREE BIG BOOKS & THE WEIRD edited by Ann & Jeff VanderMeer
And many more linked from here: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/reviews-of-older-books/
Quandary of Connection
A complete alphabetical list of my aimage-collages devoted to most of the living fictioneers for whom I have real-time reviewed more than just a handful of their stories.
A still growing cosmic gestalt or a false dangerous path?
All here: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/2023/05/02/all-living-writers-listed-je-maime/#comment-26932
Any want to be added to list? Any want to be removed?
And those fictioneers who are dead: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/2023/03/21/my-ai-decorated-reviews/
AI visual experiments triggered into shifting collages by my gestalt reviews of this author, such reviews linked here: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/tag/adam-golaski/
New William Blake Art
from the ‘Andrew Condous’ aimages here: https://nemonymousnight.wordpress.com/2023/05/29/andrew-condous/
Ancient Test Cards
He then said…
He then said… nothing. The words never came, or, if they did come, I had already departed and would never hear them. Having thought of such a possibility, I decided to return to his rude abode, deep in the dark dense forest and ask him what he had said. But when I reached the clearing where the abode once stood, there was no clearing there at all! Not even a tiny glade as evidence to its passing. I shrugged and kept my sword in its scabbard. Nobody ever came here except me. But what of the abode where the man had once lived? Had it sunk beneath the forest floor, or became so entangled with the trees, it actually looked like the trees, and had become one with the trees, and, if so, the man’s body, was it within the fattest trunk I could now see? I suddenly grasped my weapon’s haft. I heard a noise that was not natural, a noise impossible to have been made by wind or forest vermin. The noise was man-made, I was sure. A spoken word croaked by a man’s voice. As ridged and wrinkled as bark. He then said … nothing. I had imagined the voice. It had just been the noise of a voice in my head. So I spoke instead. Breaking some sort of spell. To vainly show I was there at all. A single word pluralised at its start like sword.
Long Before Eden
My review is linked above.
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