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Dear readers,

This is a brief post to let you know that I am moving my writing and photography projects over to Substack.

Thank you for reading and commenting — all very much appreciated. Thanks are also due to the people who keep Medium running for the rest of us.

I will keep this page open for now, and may add new posts from time to time. However, the bulk of my work will now be with Substack. I hope you will join me there. I look forward to more direct contact with readers - as facilitated by the new platform.

Here is the link: Waves (

All good wishes and again, my thanks.

Amy K.

This Tiny Life Which Deems Itself Eternal

Some things go unnoticed. The motivations behind our small acts and choices. Often, they slip by us, no matter how glaring to others. Little unexplained tendencies. We all have them. How, for example, did I fail to notice the phonetic resemblance between the two old-fashioned names, Agnes and Gladys, plainly…

I first saw him one late afternoon. He was in a field, perhaps twenty yards from me. He tucked into the tall grass and watched as I walked along the path below him.

This is the second time. Beside the same path, he sits on a fence post at nightfall…


I am thinking of the change of seasons, my lifelong love of the turn from summer to fall. October in sight. Yet this year, there is a nagging memory of last spring, masses of dandelions on every walk. …

This morning/mourning, I think of Agnes, who died not long before Christmas. The world has changed since then, and you may say that to post grief for a dog is unworthy of the moment. She was not less to me than others. After the convulsions of our history together, a…

It’s too easy, facile you might say, to open any piece with Joan Didion’s line, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” And much as I might like the line, the ring of it, the emotive force of it, I realize it cannot serve my purposes here. …

Here’s the new situation. We’re all struggling to think about the Democratic primary, let alone talk about it. We’re too busy trying to stay alive, keep our loved ones safe, and adjust to what may be an entire election season in lock-down. Some are already grieving a person lost to…

We’re drowning in clichés. That statement is a cliché. This entire piece will no doubt be riddled with them. There I go again. It’s worsening by the hour.

“It is what it is,” I told a friend, after the lock-down was announced. …

An earlier version of this essay was presented at the Freud Museum, London, interdisciplinary conference on Nostalgia, (9th March, 2019): )

Of all the photographs in the old album, this is the one I return to again and again. A girl hugging her dog on a cold snowbank, a…

(Taking Leave was first published by Eclectica Magazine, July/August 2019)

Pal and Shirley, 1929

“Thus, do we live, forever taking leave.” — Rilke

After 12 years, I still fail to understand the looks you give me, the sounds and movements you make. Your signs. I see you studying mine. As the one with less…


A blog by Amy Kenyon, historian/writer/photographer. For further publications (books/essays/short stories), see

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