Several long, drawn out, days reluctantly merge into one another. And although most of the days are empty, filled with only the details of being alive, eating, washing, sleeping. A few minor events unfold amongst them. An interview in an operating theatre, a cruise along the coast line, a film in the picture house, lunch with an old friend.
The relentless fracas of warm rain hitting the slate outside, reminds me of last spring. Many afternoons spent sitting at my faux classical, faux yew desk, aimlessly. And many mornings spent sitting on pool side, watching the flat water ripple, distort, and buckle as swimmers entered.