“I don’t think in any language. I think in images.” Vladimir Nabokov

And at the moment I, Vickie Lester, have been thinking mostly of how many ounces of fluid I can down in a day — and when I’m going to perk up and stop coughing. Mr. Nabokov would have put it much more eloquently.

Really, the most thrilling thing I’ve been doing these past two weeks is creeping out to the car early in the morning, turning on the engine, listening as it starts, rattles, then hums, and propping a book on the steering wheel while I read and let the battery charge.

Once inside I glimpse something gorgeous, snap the moment as the sun crosses the room, and it dawns on me that I am doing what my friend Pippa wouldn’t countenance — using the blog as an online confessional.

So today I’m turning it over to my friends….

History translated into living fairy tales by a multi-talented lady of the English Stage…

Some fascinating conversations going on at The Misfortune of Knowing, about literature and law, and a certain literary legacy very much in the news…

And then there’s my friend Andy, who thinks and writes about the most photogenic city…

You know the drill, click on the blue letters…