Thursday, November 14, 2024

Cyclamen, last leaf and new pencils.

1. I spot some pale flower buds on the cyclamen by the front door -- tight furled promises.

2. In the sunny park, I catch a few startling crimson leaves on almost bare branches. I've been reading O. Henry's The Last Leaf.

3. I really like handing out brand new shiny black and red pencils from my stationery stash.

Workshop, documentary and end.

1. Word have not been easy recently. When they do come, they seem unsettled and easily startled, like wild birds that have lost trust. Never...