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.

Morning, errands and entertainment.

1. I murmur an acknowledging greeting to a passing bin man. He is a well brought-up African and replies with eye contact and a warm 'Goo...