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.

Kite, journey and not quite the end of the day.

1. Red kite with pie-slice tail and wing fingers splayed wheels over aluminium roofs on an industrial estate. 2. Chatting idly across the tr...