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.

Northernmost point, out of the rain and blue fire.

1. An alarm goes off in Nick's pocket to let us know that it's the moment of the winter solstice. 2. The rain is falling in steady c...