Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Blackbird, orange socks and telling.

1. Blackbird not willing to leave his place on the fence as I pass. I look him right in the yellow-rimmed eye.

2. Small boy runs down a quiet street. Luminous orange socks.

3. No more secrets.

Dress, drink and catch-up.

1. Walking out of the theatre, I hold his hand so he's not tempted to bolt across the swirly carpet into the forest of legs. We agree th...