Historical Island of Giant Women (and the origins of noise pollution?)/ Rogue wave drenching while en route/ Wetting the front side of a body on the walk to the shop/ wetting the backside on return
a small flat stone collected near the Sgurr.
Small flat stone used to sharpen axe
Drying green wood on the stove
Rum lifting its soft hat
Candle light shower in the rain
Candle light drawings
Candle lit hands in the dishpan
The singing sands / The plastic sands. Like a mute on a trumpet?
Unknown cry in the night
Time in the crofting museum disappears
30 minuets to a morning coffee from the point of striking a match.
Each night a dream of women (influence of the Historical Island of Giant Women?)
1 sunlit winter day yields 3 hours interior evening illumination (one bulb)
My friend the Boulder (at Bothy entrance)
A book regarding time
Attempting to force Bluebells indoors (no results upon my departure)
Faded plastic flotsam and Jetsam – I see Japan! – I see Spain!
A story of washed up hairy coconuts displayed on a windowsill, like shrunken heads from the past.
Recording the squishing of the bog beneath wet leather boots.
A bounty of produce found in the caravan
Fashioning a bed rail from drift wood
Playing catch with a heather branch on the top of the cliff – throw it off and – whoooosh – it comes back.
And then cresting the hill with phone in pocket
A pond of emails…
And hands holding cameras to windows on a train