Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Point, prints and push.

1. At the first stroke, the sharp new point on my pencil pops and crumbles into a tiny constellation, black on white.

2. Dry morning. No-one in sight. Dew wet footprints on the path get fainter step by step.

3. One last push late at night to finish my day's proofreading.

Wet walk, morning tea and detectives.

1. My trousers are soaked after my walk in the rain. I put on a dry pair and feel the chill leaving my legs. 2. She has time for a cuppa and...