Yesterday, hearing the children's voices from across the way. Don't usually notice the holiday families, but it's pleasant to hear them playing, or to run into them on the walk round the point. Too hot, yesterday, to get much done, but it's good, sometimes, to relax into that mood and just go with the complete absence of flow. Work to live, yes, and sometimes just live. Tomorrow, I shall be up early and gone, probably no time for an early post here, to meet a friend in town, visit the bank, post some letters, empty the folder marked 'things to do in town'.
Today, I'm taking my cue from the slowed-down cloud. The window at the end - wow. Tops of trees visible at the bottom, not quite in silhouette but oddly lit - a few of the leaves at the top bright, but the rest black - the space above those trees, bands of grey, very bright white, grey. Rothko in a luminous white/silver period. And now it lifts. Cloud in the valley, trees on this side and visible - in a light pencil sihouette - on the far side, white sky. This keyboard, everything in this room, swelling with light as the sun breaks through. Day.