Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Burning, birch and pursuit.

1. The chilli in his sweat burns my fingertips.

2. Weeping birch with a silver water drop on every twig tip and fork.

3. A blue sprite of exhaust chases the car up the road.

Novel, coming back and ready for December.

1. In the early hours, I'm awake, all alone -- but I've got a new novel on my library app: a fenland gothic Saxon mystery called Mer...