Friday, August 08, 2008

Fruit, flock and figs.

1. A red-gold Victoria plum. The skin is the colour of a faded bruise, and the flesh reminds me of teatime sunlight.

2. Passing a church we catch the moment when shining butterflies of confetti hang in the air.

3. Cutting up a fat ball of mozzarella and eating it with warm figs.

Drop-off, straight home and resting.

1. As we get closer to the school, we find ourselves walking into a stream of bigger boys heading out to buy their break snack. I feel him s...