emptying my pockets of crumpled dead papers which sit on the dresser in a lined-up row, rose-white. my wallet a bassdrum and my keys a sharp jingle, this treble of pennies, divesting my goods. the
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Yellow impressionism.
this is no way to find the expression. time after time I have tried. the yellow light which struggled through yellowing lampshades. the wallpaper; teastained, tobacco- stained hues. the light sometimes of a streetlamp, or
Continue ReadingA wet morning
and painted colour marches on the quayside. ads for movies, plastered to the buses wet sides, the names of companies and van-canopies, moving with the purpose of floating leaves and seagulls which bob on the
Continue ReadingA gibbous moon
like a pearl being drawn from an oilslick - chrys calls from our kitchen to the office to see. and it's wonderful! imagine - such a view just by leaving the office! it could almost
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