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.

Facing home, seeing the sights and gaming.

1. We've had fun and a good rest in Margate, but now it's time to leave, we're glad to turn our faces towards home. 2. Catching ...