Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Point, prints and push.

1. At the first stroke, the sharp new point on my pencil pops and crumbles into a tiny constellation, black on white.

2. Dry morning. No-one in sight. Dew wet footprints on the path get fainter step by step.

3. One last push late at night to finish my day's proofreading.

Wet Sunday, resting and re-do.

1. We wake to the sound of heavy rain -- just right for a simple Sunday. 2. I put my dough in a bowl to rest, and take a quiet half-hour mys...