Friday, August 08, 2008

Fruit, flock and figs.

1. A red-gold Victoria plum. The skin is the colour of a faded bruise, and the flesh reminds me of teatime sunlight.

2. Passing a church we catch the moment when shining butterflies of confetti hang in the air.

3. Cutting up a fat ball of mozzarella and eating it with warm figs.

Straight back in, persimmons and squabble.

1. In the small hours, I finish the e-book I've borrowed from the library and change it for the next one in the series. 2. We finish the...