Author Archives: Theodora Goss

The Art of Loss by Theodora Goss I think I’m going to practice losing things. I’ll start with smaller things like the grocery list, my glasses, that cup of tea I’m almost sure I put down somewhere in the living … Continue reading →

Mr. Fox by Theodora Goss When I first fell in love with Mr. Fox, he warned me: You can’t trust me, my dear. Just when you think I am there, I am gone, I am nowhere. Look, I’m wearing a … Continue reading →

Autumn’s Song by Theodora Goss You are not alone. If they could, the oaks would bend down to take your hands, bowing and saying, Lady, come dance with us. The elder bushes would offer their berries to hang from your … Continue reading →

The Sensitive Woman by Theodora Goss There are days on which I am a thunderstorm, and days on which I am an eggshell. Today, I am so fragile that if you breathed on me, I would break apart. The pieces … Continue reading →

The Avalanche by Theodora Goss It occurs to me that you resemble a beautiful avalanche. So far, you have toppled my pine trees, buried my villages, brought down all the telephone wires. You leave a trail of pristine destruction wherever … Continue reading →

The Crazy Ones by Theodora Goss Count me among the crazy ones, although there are days when I look as sensible as a pair of shoes: brown oxfords, scuffed and a little down at the heels. But there are nights … Continue reading →

Restoring Old Paintings by Theodora Goss The passage of time has faded them: it has dimmed the Madonna’s shining face with candle smoke, it has spread a thin layer of grime over the elegant lady’s white gloves, smirched her lace. … Continue reading →