The emotion in “emotionless.”

If I were to ask my friends or family to describe me in a paragraph, words like detached, aloof, disconnected would be used more often than I drink tea. Knowing myself, I would probably be the last person to disagree with these observations. I like keeping myself away from the part in my brain where [...]

My longtime obsession with Agatha Christie.

‘ A country house in a quiet English village, a little old lady sits knitting while discussing prescription drugs. In the garden shed there is a gap on the shelf where a packet of weed killer used to be. The gardener looks carefully at the plants in the herb garden. Are those sage leaves or something else? In the kitchen, colorless crystals are scattered on a tea tray. They are probably sugar, but maybe not? At the front door a man with an egg-shaped head brushes an invisible speck of dust from his patent leather shoes before ringing the doorbell.’