Needing balm, something to soothe and cool, I turned again to the simple task of looking. Fired up and blasted off like a rocket that morning, by the end of the day I was dragging myself around. Too many stories had caught my eye. There were so many burrows to explore. Strategies and crucial questions filled my brain. The simple task of looking . . .
It's messy. Through a blurry haze, the camera is loving raindrops and turning them into bokeh. Very little input from the photographer on this walk except maybe clicking the shutter. Questions are meandering in and out of the two boney hemispheres between my ears. Round and round. How many of us are craving healing? Feeling tired of . . .
This morning there is a smorgasbord of administration awaiting me at my desk. Sipping my last drops of coffee, one foot in the world of strategy and one in a forest of spider's webs, the sparkly raindrops win the toss and the wellies are on. Galaxies of web threads and universes of morning dewdrops blanket everything. It's only on these moist . . .
When the rain rolls in from the western Atlantic we can be enveloped for days. The greyness hangs over the whole island like a wet blanket. We struggle to . . .
So the rain continued to bucket down all through July and alongside the accompanying sea mist, a kind of fog settled on my brain. The days melt into one and soon . . .