Saturday, 7 September 2013


The rain comes in oblong blocks and straight lines. It has filled the river up like a child's scribbling drawing of a river all felted pen and green sliced marks reeds. Everything is still lush leafy and thick. The rain cannot break that. The rowan's dotting red and oranged berries with starlings attending. Servants of the rowan.

I walk in a raincoat that I bought with money. I am fit again. I walk between the rain lines and don't ever get wet.

It is good to be back.

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