Inside: Working on text for Sicily stuff. Trying to fine tune it so it resembles something not naff. Nice going over it as puts me back there.
Outside: Walk by the rocks, bay full of white horses, easterly wind, salt on the lips.
Light is slowly returning.
Inside: Evening star setting over the trees from the studio. Sky is that pale blue violet, thin but bright.
Seek out the twilight as it compresses the strength of the light, has something to gauge it by (
ie encroaching darkness) as opposed to mid day were the light is spread all around. ( In northern climes anyway)
Comparing the bright light of Sicily as opposed to the 'mists of Avalon' at the moment, two different atmospheres, both compelling, one familiar and one desired.
Quite interesting program about Eel Pie Island
Twickenham. Thought of my past growing up there, that part of the river, the arched bridge, the swimming pool, the church and the ornamental gardens. Going to play school, the sound of the boatyards and the smell of the river. That shop with deep green doors and wooden counters, selling Britain plastic farm animals, the smell and feel of the plastic.
Memories like paintings.
When reading The Horses Mouth by Joyce Carey
always have that place by the river in mind.
