Winteresting.

Sunday afternoons were made for...

...a matinée. Bond preferably.

Musik for quarries

Laurie Spiegel

No more heroes

Dylan Thomas


Kate Bush


Wonder Woman


Maya Deren


Delia Derbyshire


Alfred Watkins


Dorothea Lange

Music to write books to

Hothouse

Some film choices for the current heatwave...

Winter's tale

In the heat of the summer I find myself writing wintry scenes.

Midsummer

I love long days.

Ordinary Joy

Seek

'There is a part of everything that remains unexplored, for we have fallen into the habit of remembering, whenever we use our eyes, what people before us have thought of the thing we are looking at. Even the slightest thing contains a little that is unknown. We must find it.' Gustave Flaubert

Pigeonholes

When you start to trawl through the pigeonholes of your mind sometimes you might not always want other people to see what is inside. Maybe some of the boxes are dusty, cobwebbed. Some boxes might contain the bones of ideas. Ideas that wasted away, undernourished. Other boxes filled with ideas so heavy that they have been rendered immobile.

I hope the pigeonholes of my mind are filled with beauteous things. Ripe. Wing-ed things. That take easily to the air and soar high.

Treehouses

Houses in trees...

...and a tree in a house.

Winter Sun

Photograph by Thomas Bristow

"In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer."
Albert Camus - Return to Tipasa (1952)

Rainy World

Street Photographs: Manchester and Salford by Shirley Baker

After a week of heat, the rain has come. I watch it darkening the path outside my house. I hear it sinking into my thirsty lawn.

The roads become rivers and the people rush, faces down, trying to avoid the sharp sting of hard rain.

And I remember myself as a little girl watching the rainy world from my window hoping that my chalk drawings wouldn't be washed away.

Years later I don't mind if the rain comes.