I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.
Thursday, 25 July 2013
Garden Pictures from an Old Industrial Space.
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A rocky oasis.
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The butterflies... There were about ten, but they were shy, every time I approached, they'd flutter to another planter. They're Small Tortoiseshells, we get a lot of them, I find them in the attic in wintertime, woken, re-animated by the odd day of sun, fluttering against the windows, when they really need to sleep until the flowers are in bloom again.
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