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.

In and out, cool skid and peppercorns.

1. Love to catch sight of our children running in and out of the soft play frame. 2. He falls to his knees in a slide across the floor to ex...