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.

Drift, cutting fruit and clear floor.

1. We don't have much on, and I am very tired after a day with friends. I spend the time drifting between books and podcasts. 2. The bes...