Sunday Rain

This morning it’s raining, so it’s quiet. This means that the people fighting outside the pub late last night aren’t on the streets, and if it keeps raining they’ll stay home instead of coming out to nurse their hangovers or renew the argument. The birds are still tweeting, so it must be warm enough, and … Continue reading Sunday Rain

Back to the Garden

The idea of group approval is a strange thing, pulling us this way and that, in directions that are sometimes worthy, other times ugly, asking us to constantly judge both ourselves and others, while hinting broadly exactly what that judgement should be. It’s not just music, or books, or film and TV that are ranked, … Continue reading Back to the Garden

what is love

More quarantine musings. Yesterday I went out for another walk. It felt good to move, although the snow makes it difficult to get past people. A woman went by, talking on her phone. She let out a long breath as she passed. Sometimes I think about the molecules of scent. If I can smell someone, … Continue reading what is love

Sunday Morning

I woke up this morning intending to write something. It was quiet, and the sun was bright and low in the sky. Early morning, with blue skies and quiet. Yesterday, someone moved in to this floor of the apartment building. Four hours of the door squeaking open, then banging shut. Then squeaking open, and shutting … Continue reading Sunday Morning