Monday, May 26, 2008

The rain has come, one worker and pulp.

1. There is smell of wet woods and growing things, as if the Common has drunk deeply in the rain and has let out a fragrant sigh into the sunshine.

2. At the edge of the cricket ground, on a Sunday when everyone else is playing or walking or simply looking on, a serious teenage girl sits studying from a language book.

3. Putting on a pulpy podcast and curling up on the sofa to thrill at the adventures of Doc Savage and the crimson-fingered man who is trying to kill him.

Invented recipe, gone to seed and co-working.

1. When I come down, she is making pancakes to an invented recipe. 2. I let the parsley go to seed. I regret the drooping bitter leaves that...