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.

Heather, portfolio and expand.

1. There are drifts of mauve heather blossom here and there on the common where the trees have been cleared to open up heathland. 2. I rathe...